Operation Checkmate
by rach0486
Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as a helpless puppet to a mad man. CHAPTER 9 UPDATED! ... COMPLETE!
1. Opening Gambit

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as a helpless puppet to a mad man...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me!

Author's Note: Seriously have NO idea where the heck this one came from! (Other than the deep dark recesses of my mind – scary place!). It's a bit different from what I usually go for (genre wise), so I apologise if it's pants, but I thought I might as well give it a go. And don't worry, I haven't completely forgotten about my other series. Please R&R as always. Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 1 – Opening Gambit

"Close the iris!" Sam screamed as soon as she felt the metal walk way beneath her. She heard the barrier slide into place as she tumbled down the ramp and came to a halt beside Daniel.

Teal'c was still on-guard, she noticed, with his staff weapon pointed directly at the shielded gate.

There were about a dozen heavy thuds against the iris before the event horizon whined and failed, leaving the gate room once again quiet and without its ever-present blue shimmer. Teal'c finally relaxed as a medical team swarmed in to assess their latest collection of bumps and scrapes, none more impressive than the deep gaping wound that ran across Daniel's shoulder.

"What happened, Colonel?" Jack asked from the control room.

Sam blinked at him for a moment – still finding it unusual to be addressed as 'Colonel'.

"There was an ambush, sir. Ba'al's troops were waiting for us at the village. They had already slaughtered most of the villagers there. I don't know how they could've gotten there so soon," she replied as one of the medical officers inspected the broses on her arms and face.

"Get yourselves cleared and cleaned up," Jack ordered them. "We'll debrief at 1800."

Sam nodded her acknowledgement and followed her team out of the gate room, but not without noticing the way the General was favouring his left arm. As she headed towards the blast doors, she saw him flex his fingers, as if trying to regain lost feeling in them.

000

By the time the briefing was due, Sam was the only one in her team fully cleared, medically. So she made her way to Jack's office to debrief on behalf of her team.

As she entered his office, Jack was stood still flexing his left hand, almost nervously. She tapped on the door, alerting him to her presence.

"Sir, are you alright?" she enquired.

Jack looked at her quizzically for a moment before he realised what she was referring to.

"What, this?" he said waving his left arm at her. "Sure. Just giving me a little jip, that's all. Must have slept awkwardly on it or something."

Sam creased her brow slightly, not sure that he was being totally honest with her. She soon dismissed her concerns, though, as he turned their attention to the mission debriefing.

"Like I said in the gate room," Sam started. "Ba'al was waiting for us in the village. He must have had a spy there since SG-4's preliminary contact with the Mytomin people, that's the only way he could have known about the treaty.

She carried on talking, explaining every move her team had made on the planet, as if it ha been a game of chess. Each side advancing until SG-1 had lost and been forced to retreat.

But Jack didn't hear much of her explanation. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sudden sense of dizziness. Sounds became distant echoes in his head that merged and muddled into one massive din. The colours and lights around him seemed to bleach and bleed into one another, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything. Soon, it became difficult for him to even breath, as if his shirt was suddenly three sizes too small and was restricting his lungs.

At last, he doubled over in agony as a sudden sharp pain erupted in his chest, as if he had been stabbed by a thousand white-hot needles.

"Carter," he managed to gasp as he pushed his chair away from his desk in a futile attempt to free his lungs.

Sam stopped mid-sentence. "Sir?" she said looking at the General, suddenly alarmed by the ashen complexion of his skin.

He collapsed onto the floor.

"Sir!" Sam exclaimed, rushing to his side. "Sir!" she shouted again, checking his vitals. Even with the limited training she had in field medicine, she was completely at a loss to what was happening.

As she gradually began to panic, she tried CPR, but it was useless. He simply wouldn't revive. His pulse was weak and erratic and his breathing was shallow and raspy. Finally realising she couldn't do anything for him; Sam grabbed the intercom telephone from the wall.

"Medical team to General O'Neill's office! Repeat! Medical team to the General's office!" she shouted, half panicked by what was going on.

She quickly returned to Jack's side, determined to find something she could do to help him.

"Jack, come on. Don't quit on me!" she muttered as she tried CPR again.

The medical team arrived in record time and quickly took over from Sam. All she could do was watch on as they quickly took him away to the infirmary.

000

12 hours later...

Sam's front door closed behind her and she leaned heavily against it, weary from the last two days' events. Or more accurately, last night's events.

She had followed Jack to the infirmary after his collapse and had then waited on tenter hooks to be told that he had suffered a severe myocardial infraction (better known as a heart attack) and was unlikely to regain consciousness for a few hours. At least, Dr Brightman had been half way through explaining all this to her when the claxons sounded again and the good doctor rushed to his side just in time to confirm that his condition had gone from stable to critical as he had slipped into a coma.

From then on, Sam had sat by his side, desperately hoping for some glimmer of change in his condition. But all that happened was she was pushed out of the way a few times when he briefly flat lined.

In the end, Dr Brightman had had to have her escorted from the infirmary with orders to go home and get some rest. To which Sam had insisted upon being notified as soon as there was any change in him either way.

Sam gazed around her hallway, surprised to find she was actually relieved to be home at all. There was still a great part of her that wanted to be with Jack, just in case.

She made her way into the kitchen, determined to find something to occupy her mind with for as long as possible. When the phone rang on the breakfast bar beside her, her heart nearly leapt out of her throat. For a second, she didn't want to answer it in case it was Brightman telling her the worst.

After a dozen, ear piercing rings, Sam finally picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said cautiously.

"Hi, is Albert there?" said the man on the other end of the line. His voice was slightly hoarse, but seemed pleasant enough.

"I'm sorry, sir. There's no-one here by that name, you must have the wrong number," Sam replied cordially.

"My apologises ma'am," he said and hung up.

Sam smiled – for the first time that day. There was something calming in the stranger's voice that set her at ease a little.

A few moments later, the phone rang again. This time, it didn't panic her so much.

"Hello?" she answered, more lively than before.

"I'm looking for Albert?" said the same, calming voice on the other end.

"I'm sorry. He's not here. You have the wrong number again."

The man paused briefly.

"Is this 555-7413?" he asked.

"Yes it is," Sam replied, slightly unnerved to hear her own phone number read back to her by a complete stranger. "But there must have been some mistake. There's no-one here called Albert."

"My mistake, sorry ma'am." With that, he hung up.

Sam was puzzled. She knew it was an easy mistake to make, taking a number down wrong, but even so, the man had somehow seemed unconvinced by her assurance that 'Albert' wasn't there. She waited by the phone for a few moments and sure enough – not even a minute after she had hung up – it rang again.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, ma'am," said the same male voice on the line. "But are you sure Albert's not there? I really need to talk to him."

"Yes I'm sure! Given that I'm the only person who lives here!" She didn't appreciate being talked down to like this, especially by someone she had never seen before. She didn't wait for his reply before hanging up, hoping he would get the point that she didn't want to be disturbed like this every two minutes for the rest of the day.

The receiver hadn't been back in its holder for ten seconds when it started ringing for a forth time.

"Look pal!" she began, anticipating who it would be. But he cut her off.

"I don't appreciate being hung up on, Samantha. You'd do well to learn that fairly quickly." His calm polite tone was now replaced by a rough malicious one that sent a chill through Sam.

She froze on hearing her own name.

"How did you –?" she started on a breath, but he cut her off yet again.

"I've had my eye on you for a while."

Sam began to feel her blood boil at the sound of his voice. She was furious at herself for being so easily taken in by his act.

"And all that nonsense about Albert?" she spat, growing more and more angry with each passing second.

"Well, you'll work that one out soon enough," he said.

Sam bit her teeth together, trying not to totally lose her cool until she was sure she had the upper hand.

"I think someone's been reading too much John Grisham," she said through clenched teeth.

The man – whoever he was – let out a low, but hearty laugh at her comment. The sound of which made her skin crawl.

"It's nice to see some of the General's wit has rubbed off on you Samantha," he said, still highly amused by her comment. "You know, I'm surprised they let you work together, given your eh... history."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure you'll figure that one out in time too," he assured her. There was a slight air of hopefulness in his voice, as if he really wanted her to know who he was.

"Look, what do you want?" Sam asked eventually. "Is it money? Intel? What?"

"What's the rush love? You expecting a call or something? Don't worry. Our boy Jack won't be checking out anytime soon. I can assure you of that."

Once again, Sam froze. Whoever she was dealing with was three steps ahead of her still and she didn't like it – not one bit. He knew too much about her and about her work.

"I'm just sorry it all came to this, is all," he said wistfully. "But, hey! Sometimes you have to sacrifice a few pawns in the opening gambit, eh Samantha?"

Sam clenched he teeth again at the thought of Jack being little more than a pawn in this man's 'game'.

"Just tell me what you want, so you can get the fuck out of my life!" she hissed at him. She didn't care that he still held dominion over the proceedings. She just wanted him gone.

"Samantha, really," he said placidly, "is that sort of language really called for?"

"Listen asshole! I don't know who you are, but my patience is just about running out. So either get to the point, or get gone!"

He said nothing.

"What do you want damnit!" she shouted.

She heard him smile at the fact that he was getting to her.

"Oh, nothing at the moment," he answered her at last. "Just the promise of your future co-operation."

"Co-operation?" she repeated. "Forget it!"

"You sure you don't want to think about that, maybe before you need a new toaster?" he taunted.

"What?" she queried at his final comment.

No sooner had she asked, the toaster on the counter beside her exploded, sending shards of metal and plastic flying in all directions. Tongues of fire licked towards the ceiling leaving a circle of black on whatever they touched.

"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, dropping the phone to douse the flames. As she brought the blaze under control, she heard his dreadful laughter emitting from the receiver.

"You bastard!" she said picking up the phone again. "You think that was funny?!"

"Honestly?" he provoked further. "Yes. Now! What about my request. Care to reconsider?"

"Never!"

"You sure?"

"Positive!"

"Too bad."

Sam braced herself for another kitchen appliance to blow. But nothing happened... inside, anyway.

From outside – across the street to be exact – there came an almighty blast that ripped through the air like thunder. Sam rushed through her house to the front window in time to see Mrs Wilson – her eighty year old neighbour – being thrown out of her own house as it exploded with such force that it made the whole street shake. Car alarms wailed up and down the road. People began emerging from their houses to see what the disturbance was.

Sam clasped her hands over her mouth in shock.

In all the chaos and commotion outside, she was completely still. Numbed in the knowledge that the incident had been set as a demonstration to her.

Reluctantly, she picked up the phone once more.

"If you think you can use scare tactics like that to gain my co-operation, you must be crazier than I thought," she said quietly, her voice full of venom that shock was preventing her from shouting out.

"It got your attention, though. Didn't it Samantha?" He seemed completely unaffected and undeterred by the fact that he had just killed an eighty year old woman.

"Why are you doing this?" she demanded, breaking at last. "And how for that matter?!"

"Well, which is it to be, Samantha? How or why?"

"Both!"

"No, one or the other."

"Fine. How?!"

"Machines," he answered simply.

"What?!" She was confused. Not only by the brevity of his answer but by how any of this had anything to do with her.

"You of all people should know that any electrical appliance – like you toaster or Mrs Wilson's fuse box – can be re-wired in such a way that it'll eventually blow." He paused to let this reality sink in before he continued. "Which is why I think you'll go for my new offer."

"I wouldn't bank on it!" Sam replied as tears fell down her cheeks. Despite what she was saying, somehow she knew she wasn't going to be able to get out of this the way she wanted to.

"Now, Samantha. Don't be unreasonable. You've seen what I can do. So here's the new deal... Either you co-operate with me in my latest project, or I kill Jack."

"You wouldn't," she said weakly.

"Think about it, Samantha," he patronised. "Jack's in a coma. All nicely hooked up to lots of lovely machines. And there's a button right next to me with his name on it!"

Sam screwed her eyes shut as tears began to fall harder down her face.

"Going once..."

There was no way out that didn't Jack in danger.

"Going twice..."

He had her just where he wanted her.

"Alright," she whispered. Defeated. "What do I have to do?"

000000

Author's Note: So what do you think? I'll keep going with this (and everything else) just as long as y'all review! Have a nice day now!


	2. J'Adoube

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as the helpless puppet to a madman! ...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me for this story!

Author's Note: OK, so... Chapter 2... Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first part. I got a good laugh out of a great many of them! And hope to do so for this part's reviews (hint, hint!). So, please R&R as always. Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

**Operation Checkmate: Chapter 2 – J'Adoube**

"... Police are putting this morning's tragedy down to a faulty fuse box combined with a gas leak. No fowl play is suspected," the anchor-woman reported solemnly.

Sam angrily turned off the television, unable to stand seeing the pictures of Mrs Wilson's house going up anymore. Apart from the fact that she had seen it all first hand, she was also the only person who knew what really happened. She was also the only person who couldn't lift a finger to set the police straight.

Apart from anything, they would quickly dismiss her account as being from a woman who was simply looking for attention. They had their evidence and therefore it was case closed.

But also, there were other people to think of in the equation. One in particular. Jack. The second she went to the police, FBI, NID or anyone else with what was going on, he would be dead for sure. Or at least that's what she had been promised.

And at this point, she was in no position to argue. She had seen what he was capable of. Whoever 'he' was. There was no way she was endangering Jack further. Not with him being in a coma.

She was, quite honestly, helpless in this one. A mere pawn in his game.

In her mind, she went over the conversation time and time again. Analysing every part of it. Trying to work out where it had all gone wrong for her.

'Just sit tight. I'll contact you soon enough,' he had told her when she finally caved to his threats and agreed to co-operate. 'Oh, and Samantha? No cops. You got that?'

She half wished she hadn't heard that part. Not that they'd do her any good at the moment.

But she hated being powerless.

0

Two days later, Sam was back on the base ready to greet their temporary replacement for General O'Neill.

"Colonel Carter, could I see you in my office, please," General Crawford asked at the end of the official greeting.

"Yes sir," Sam complied.

She settled herself in the seat opposite what was usually Jack's desk and waited for the new General to speak.

"I hear you recently got command of SG-1, congratulations," he said.

"Thank you, sir," she replied.

Crawford smiled. "I knew your father, that's all. It surprised me to hear his little girl had come so far already. I could have sworn you were still in high school!"

Sam forced a smile. She was used to this sort of conversation, being a military brat and all. But it had been a while since she had been on the receiving end of one. And, combined with recent event, it wasn't what she needed at that moment in time.

"I understand you and General O'Neill were close?" Crawford pried.

Sam stared at the desk and wandered where he had got that intelligence from. Was it just something from a harmless file, or had he been 'contacted'? She proceeded carefully.

"He's been my CO for going on eight years now. I'd like to think we were friends as well, yes," she said in all innocence.

"I see," Crawford commented, apparently buying her cover. "I was sorry to hear about his attack. You were with him, yes?"

Sam nodded, but couldn't help wondering where he was going with this.

"My point is, Colonel. Something like that can't have been easy to take – even for a seasoned officer like yourself. I want to put SG-1 on down time for a while. Maybe even until O'Neill is back on his feet."

Sam looked up at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You have no missions scheduled for the moment and Dr Jackson and Teal'c are both still recovering from injuries, is that correct?"

Sam nodded again.

"And from what I've read about you, Colonel, you rarely take time off when it's offered. I think it would be beneficial for your team and especially for you if you had a few weeks away from the base."

"Yes sir," Sam muttered quietly.

"Don't think I'm trying to get rid of you or anything. I just know how Jacob would react if knew how much you threw into your work," Crawford joked.

"Oh, I think he has a pretty good idea," Sam replied.

"All the more reason to take the down time! I'll even let you take some of your science projects away with you if it makes you feel better."

Sam smiled gratefully. "Was that all, sir?"

"Yes. You're dismissed."

Sam quickly made her way to her lab to collect a few items that she would need on her downtime. As she entered the room, the phone rang.

"Carter?" she answered, professionally.

"Colonel, its Dr Brightman," came the reply. "I just wanted to let you know General O'Neill is being moved to the Air Force Hospital in Colorado Springs today. They have better facilities there for his condition."

"Thank you Doctor," Sam replied. "Just make sure they know to keep me updated, that's all I ask."

"I'll make sure they do."

"Oh, and I'll be off base for a few weeks, so you might want to give them my cell phone number instead of this one."

"I'll do that."

"Thanks again."

The conversation was quickly wrapped up and Sam returned to packing her things before the phone rang again.

"Carter," she answered as before.

"Hey there, Samantha. How's it going?"

Sam froze as she recognised his voice.

"I see you got that down time I put in for you. Isn't that nice and handy for us?"

"And the General being moved? Was that you too?" she spat.

"No. That was Dr Brightman's doing. Not that it makes the slightest bit of difference," he said calmly.

"So, what? You've rigged all the life-support machines in the county?"

"Who said anything about life-support?" He was almost laughing in his tone of voice.

Sam was rapidly seeing red in the way he held dominion over so effortlessly.

"You said you were controlling machines!" she said desperately. The last thing she needed was yet another unknown factor in Jack's predicament.

"That's right," he said simply. "Oh come on, Samantha! You're letting me down here! I would have thought someone of your profession would have worked it out by now. Especially given your past with the General..." He trailed off, waiting for her to figure it out. But she wouldn't yet.

Sam creased her brows and stayed silent, hoping he would just get frustrated with her and blurt out what she was supposed to know already.

"No guesses yet?" he queried. "Oh well. You'll get it eventually."

"Look, what do you want with me this time?" Sam said, overwhelmed with the same desire to be rid of him as she was faced with in their fist encounter.

"Not a lot. Just a few files. Have a look under the work bench in the centre of you lab," he ordered.

Sam did as he said and noticed an envelope sellotaped to the underside of her desk. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it. The thought of him being in her lab sent a cold chill down her spine and through her nerves. It was bad enough feeling like he was watching her all the time without adding the idea that he had access to everything she did.

"How very original of you!" she said sarcastically, determined not to let him see how much he was getting to her.

"Hey, the classics are often the ones that work the best," he replied.

Sam opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper that was inside. On it was a list of names and numbers

"The names are all Air Force officers," he told her. "The numbers are NID files."

"Let me guess?" she said dryly. "I go talk to the people about these files?"

"Way off, sugar!"

Sam's stomach turned when she heard him refer to her as 'sugar'.

"I don't think there's anything you could tell these people about these files that they would understand or care about. No these people are the sorts of officers that give the Air Force a bad name. what I need you to do, is pick up their files and deliver them to me."

Sam's patience was quickly warring thin again. "And where exactly do I pick them up from?"

Once again, she heard him smile done the phone at her. "The same place you'd pick up any Air Force file, Samantha... The Pentagon."

"You gotta be fucking nuts!" Sam retorted.

He just laughed at her. "Nice turn of phrase there, honey. Of course just how you get to the files is entirely up to you. But then, you've got covert training. I'm sure you'll put it to good use."

"And the numbered files?"

"Same story, I'm afraid. Only these are slightly more tricky," he told her.

"More tricky than breaking into the Pentagon?" Sam quipped.

He laughed again. "Oh, I love how much wit you've picked up from the General. It really does suit you!"

Sam closed her eyes and breathed deeply trying to bite back the string of insults she was dying to hurl at him down the phones line.

"But as I was saying..." he continued. "Its trickier because these files – instead of being handily stored in a filing cabinet at NID head-quarters – are only accessible through the NID mother board computer. You need lots of carefully controlled security passes to get to those. So, yes. They're trickier."

"And may I ask what they are?" Sam queried, hoping he would allow that little piece of knowledge.

"You can ask," he said pleasantly. "But I won't answer you. The address for sending the Pentagon files is on the back of that paper you're holding. I've e-mailed you the account to send the NID files to."

"Account?" Sam questioned.

"As in internet account? E-mail address? Honestly, you spend too much time in that mountain. You need to join the 21st Century, Samantha!" he said with a hint of irony in his tone.

Sam bit her teeth together hard, trying not to rise to his provocation.

"One more thing, Samantha," he said, sensing she was about to hang up on him. "There is a time limit for this. I want everything where it should be by 2130 on Thursday. That gives you three days. If anything's missing, you know what'll happen to our boy Jack?"

Sam closed her eyes again as a wave of nausea hit her hard.

"You understand?" he prompted when she didn't reply.

"I understand," she said, defeated.

"Good," he said jovially. "You'd better get cracking then!"

With that, the line went dead.

Sam hesitated for a moment before she put the receiver down. She quickly left her lab with her box of experiments and her instructions.

When she reached the elevator, she stopped dead in her tracks as Jack's gurney was wheeled past her into the waiting carriage. Her muscles suddenly felt like led as she thought about how 'he' was using Jack to manipulate her. He clearly knew her too well as nothing else was as effective at gaining her co-operation as holding Jack's life on the line.

When she finally reached the surface, she was just in time to watch the ambulance disappear out of the base parking lot on its way to the hospital.

"I'm doing this for you," she muttered after the vehicle. She sighed heavily as she loaded her things into the back of her car.

Silently, she pulled out of the base and turned, not to go home, but towards the Airport. In a few minutes, she parked again outside the terminal.

With a heavy heart, she made her way to the check in desk.

"One return ticket to Washington DC," she said.

00000

Author's Note: I think that'll do for now. Hope you're still enjoying this as mush as I am! The best way to let me know is in a review! (Of course!). So, till next time, then. Happy reviewing!


	3. Rank and File

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as a helpless puppet to a mad man...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me!

Author's Note: OK, so... chapter 3. A lot of people in reviews have been commenting on the fact that there have been a lot of cliff hangers in this story and in 'Twinkle Twinkle'. Just to let you all know, there'll be a lot more in both stories! How else am I gonna keep you all keen to read?!? Anyway, R&R as always. Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 3 – Rank and File

Sam sat nervously by the window on the plane wondering how the hell she was going to manage any of what 'he' was asking of her. She had to admit, no matter how much it pained her, he was right. It was going to be so much easier to get into the Pentagon than the NID.

For one thing, the Pentagon was her old stomping ground; she knew it just as well as she knew the SGC. Plus, she had a certain degree of clearance there.

Also, when it came to the NID, they were naturally suspicious of everyone – especially their own people. The chances of her getting in there, finding the files on a computer and e-mailing them out without drawing attention to herself was pretty much impossible. There was no way anyone would turn a blind eye to her there. But the Pentagon was different.

She deemed it best to leave the NID for later. Her main priority was the Pentagon files at the moment.

She dug into her bag and found a single, slightly crumpled piece of paper with the SGC letter head on the top of it. She always kept a few handy, in case of emergencies. Of course, by emergencies, she was generally thinking about times when she may need to fax some bright idea to her lab assistants when she was off base. It happened more often than people realised! But in this instance, she was using it to aid a mad man obtain whatever it was he was after.

She paused for moment her pen hovering over the paper.

At last, she began to write:

_On behalf of the SGC, Lt. Colonel Carter requests the following personnel files to be provided for possible candidacy as a member of SG-1:_

_Lieutenant Reiss Havers_

_Lieutenant Tony Madison_

_Captain Ian Beck_

_Captain John Carmichael_

_Captain Adam Taut_

_Signed: Samantha Carter (Lt Col USAF) _

She read over her note before folding it and placing it back in her bag for safe keeping.

It didn't matter that she wasn't in uniform, she thought to herself. Enough people knew her there and could vouch for her identity if push came to shove.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly be landing at Regan National Airport, Washington DC. We hope you have had a pleasant flight with American Airline and we look forward to you flying with us in the future. During the descent, please ensure your seat is in the upright position and your food tray is folded away. Thank you."

As the flight attendant went through the usual speech, the plane descended through the clouds and Washington stretched out bellow them.

Sam's stomach fluttered slightly as nerves began to build. She couldn't believe she was going through with this.

* * *

"Well, well! Lookey what the cat dragged in!"

Sam smiled as she heard the familiar Texan drawl of her former colleague Michael Lambert. It was such a welcome sound – for several reasons. Firstly, she had been hoping he would still be working at the Archives (in the past he had always granted her a certain amount of levity regarding the files, mainly because she was a General's daughter and could easily make his life hard, but he also had a little bit of a crush on her if she remembered correctly). Secondly, the familiarity of his greeting reminded her of her life before this creep had snuck in. she almost forgot what she was really there for.

"Lambert," she said coolly and professionally, but with a hint of flirtation that seemed to contradict the formal greeting.

"So, you finally decide to kick in the star travel and shack up with me, eh?" Lambert teased, leaning against the desk that stood between the two old friends.

Sam rolled her eyes, remembering exactly how their almost ritual banter always played out. She looked him straight in the eye with a look of playful superiority on her face.

"You really have never heard of Court Martial, have you Captain?" she said – her usual response that effectively shut down the conversation.

Lambert's shoulders sagged slightly. He feigned frustration in his defeat before straightening himself up again, ready to actually be professional.

"Alright then, Major. What can I do for you?"

Sam smiled again. Clearly, he wasn't up to date, despite working in the Filing and Archiving Department!

"Actually, I was promoted last month. Lieutenant Colonel," she informed him.

Lambert's eyes grew wider at the news.

"Sam, that's great! Congratulations. I heard O'Neill got the run of the SGC, but I had no idea! So, you got a command now or what?"

Sam nodded. "SG-1," she said plainly. Her stomach gave a sudden jolt as she spotted an opening to bring her reason for being there to the forefront.

"That's why I'm here, actually," she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out the letter she had drafted on the plane. She handed him the note.

Lambert quickly scanned over the letter.

"This come a little last minute?" he questioned.

"Yeah. General O'Neill gave me the list of candidates the day before his heart attack. I doubt he would have put the memo through to you yet."

Lambert nodded, but creased his forehead; clearly he wasn't wholly convinced of something.

"You know I need the base commander's authorisation to release personnel documents," he said, being as serious as Sam had ever seen him.

"I know that," she cooed, stepping right up to the desk. "But it's not like you haven't bent a few rules for me in the past." She hated having to use her 'charms' on him like this, but she really was at her wits end – not that she would let that fact show.

Lambert looked uncomfortable for a moment, making Sam regret digging up that part of their history. They had both been in trouble for just that in the past.

"OK, how about this," Sam piped up, fearing he was about to flatly turn down her request – she couldn't let that happen. He was her only chance to keep the transaction even remotely legal. Without him, she would have to steal them herself. She hoped it would never come to that.

"I'm only in town for today and I really need to get those files sorted out as soon as possible. So the second I touch down in Colorado, I'm gonna call General Crawford and tell him all about this. He'll then find the memo O'Neill sent me and he can then fax you his authorisation."

Lambert stood and thought for a moment. Sam could tell she was beginning to get through to him – his expression told her that much. He looked undecided. Like he was carefully considering everything involved (including his career prospects if he was found out).

"I can make it an order, if it makes you feel any better," Sam coaxed further. The comment sounded playful enough, but was meant in all seriousness and in sheer desperation.

Lambert smiled at last and disappeared into the archives behind him to find the requested files.

As soon as he was out of sight, Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief. She began to anxiously pace the few feet of floor in front of her, barely even conscious of the fact that she was moving at all.

She could hardly believe she had gotten away with it. The way Lambert had looked at her – like he knew what she was doing was less than above board – lead her to wonder if he knew what was going on.

But part of her had hoped he had figured something out. That way, she might have been able to tell him everything. She might have had an ally!

Her thoughts were interrupted as he returned with a stack of files.

"Right. You're robbing me blind here – as usual!" he quipped, placing the files on the desk in front of him.

Sam came to the desk once more, trying her hardest to control the tremor in her hands enough to allow her to sign the release form on them. All the time she could feel his querying eyes burning into her. It was unsettling to say the least. She took her time in signing, giving her enough time to gather her nerves together behind her cool military façade. Finally, she looked up.

"What?" she asked innocently, seeing his worried expression.

Lambert observed her for a moment. "Are you alright?" he asked genuinely.

Sam faltered for a second. It wasn't often he showed such genuine concern – he was too carefree for that. She so wanted to tell him then. Just pour out everything that had happened in the last week.

As soon as words tried to escape her mouth, all she heard in her mind were 'his' words, threatening – promising even – that Jack would be killed if she told anyone else. All she could do was look surprised at his question.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and unwavering.

Lambert looked at her strangely for a second, trying to work out how best to phrase his concerns behind her actions.

"I don't know," he said carefully. "You just seem a little... anxious."

Sam smiled – she hoped it was reassuring.

"I'm just under a little pressure at the moment. You know, with the new command and now with O'Neill's attack, it'll take a little time to get used to the new guy. You know how it is."

Lambert nodded and smiled sympathetically at her.

"OK," he conceded, thankfully satisfied with her answer. "Just be sure to get Crawford to fax that authorisation as soon as possible."

Sam nodded her thanks and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Colonel?" he called after her.

Sam turned back to face him, fearing he would pry something further from her.

"Take it easy, OK?" he said.

Sam smiled – really smiled. "I'll do my best," she said and left.

As soon as she was out on the street again, she found the nearest wall to lean against before her knees had a chance to buckle beneath her. She was exhausted. All the day's pretence was getting the better of her. And to make it worse, it was all for the sake of a mad man. She was actually helping some crazy criminal bastard to fulfil his goals!

NO! It wasn't for him! It was for Jack! This was the only thing she could do to keep him alive!

Or that's what she was trying to tell herself anyway. Somehow, it didn't seem to ring true to her. No matter how she painted it, she was bending over backwards for the maniac.

Sam sighed heavily, pushing as many of her thoughts as she could to the back of her mind. But one thing stayed heavily in the forefront.

This was only the beginning. She still had the NID files to procure and god knows what else he had in store for her!

* * *

Author's Note: OK, so such a big cliff hanger as I've done in the past. But be warned, there will be more (and they will be worse!). Well, that's it for now folks! Please don't forget to review and I'll see y'all in chapter 4. Have a nice day now!

(PS: Sorry if some of the plot details seem a little far fetched – I was desperate!)


	4. Wing Attack

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as the helpless puppet to a madman! ...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me for this story!

Author's Note: I apologise if some of the plot details in this one are a little thin in this chapter. Also, apologies for the slight(!) rip off of The Net! Don't forget to review all the same. Thanx. Enjoy!

NB: Apologies for the wierd formatting before. Don't know what was going on, but I think it's sorted now. Thanx for letting me know about it!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 4 - Wing Attack

About six months ago now, there had been a security breach in the NID head-quarters network computer. The perpetrator was never apprehended, but it had prompted an entire over-haul of their Network's security measures.

As such, it was discovered that the hacker had set up a series of internet games that -- when played out in a certain way -- lead to the NID mainframe. These games had been fairly elusive from the security team as they could only be traced if someone activated them.

That's where Sam had come in.

Barrett had enlisted her help to track them down. The deal was that she would use the games and attempt to access the Network and the security team would track and stop her -- shutting down the games as they went.

They ran dozens of permutations on it, but every time she ran through the games, she breezed through -- mainly because she had been able to write in a load of short cuts that reduced the six games to one. She was in the system a good ninety seconds, each time, before the security team could lock her out.

Ninety seconds may not sound like much, but it was plenty of time to smuggle, say, five files out.

"You're taking this way too seriously," Barrett commented to her at the time, as her competitive nature had compelled her to push the limit on the exercise.

"I'm just trying to keep it realistic for your boys!" she had replied. "They need to know what could be thrown at them."

She only hoped they hadn't tightened their act much in the last six months...

* * *

It was getting late when Sam arrived back home from Washington. But she knew there was more she had to do before turning in for the night.

She only had two days left, now, to deliver everything to 'him'.

She made her way through the dark house into the study, only turning on the light to find the power switch for the computer. While it started up, she set about making sure she had everything at hand for whatever she may need.

As soon as her Desktop was fully operational, a message appeared on the screen, prompting her to check her e-mail account.

Sam took in a few deep breaths. "Here goes..." she muttered as she opened the new message waiting for her. She was ready for a great torrent of taunts and abuse to be included in it -- after all, they had accompanied everything else 'he' had done so far. But there was none. All the message held was the e-mail account for the NID files:

Sam quickly noted it down before loading a blank CD into the drive and logging onto the internet.

* * *

All Sam could hear as she made her way through the internet routine was the thumping of her heart as blood and adrenaline mingled together and raced through her veins. One thing was on her mind: 'Please god, don't let them have taken it off line'.

After nearly half an hour of searching, she found it. The one game that stood between her and the NID mainframe. She sat for a moment, the mouse poised over the _Enter_ icon on the screen. Nerves, guilt and fear held her back.

"C'mon," she muttered to herself. "Can't back out now."

Her finger felt like lead when she finally willed her muscles to depress the button on the mouse.

She screen in front of her changed quickly to reveal a Chess board, each of the pieces in its place and ready to play.

As she recalled, there were two ways to play. The first was manual -- computer and player each taking a turn to play out their strategies. This, of course, dragged out the game and could often take several games to reach the NID. The second was programmed -- a few of the short cuts she had added, much to Barrett's annoyance.

She had discovered what it was that finally opened the door -- so to speak -- to the NID computer and so had written in various commands to achieve them.

Sam stared at the request on the screen: _Select side_. Obediently, she opted for the white pieces, thus giving her the opening move.

The board re-set itself to her choice and awaited her first move.

She selected the Auto-Play and then typed in her command: _Initiate Wing Attack. Enter._

The pieces on the screen began to move themselves. White pawn. Black pawn. White pawn. Black knight. And so on.

Sam's fingers tapped nervously at the edge of the keyboard as the familiar game played itself out on the screen in front of her. The computer -- having taken over both sides of the game -- began to increase the speed at which it was played. Before long, it seemed to be speeding out of control, as neither side was able to break the other's defences.

Sam, now concentrating hard on the game in front of her, watched for her cue.

Over the game flashed a message: _Perpetual Check_. All the time, the pieces behind continued to dance about the board trying desperately to break the cycle it found itself in.

Then, in the corner of the screen, she saw what she had been waiting for.

A small, barely noticeable 'Infinity' symbol was blinking in time to the message on the screen.

She clicked on it.

Instantly, she screen warped and dissolved into a random blur of computer code, appearing and disappearing just as quickly as the game had done.

As soon as it appeared, Sam's finger was poised over the Delete key on her keyboard.

"Ten... nine... eight... seven... six..." she counted down steadily, ignoring the drum of her heart in her throat. "Five... four... three... two..."

Her finger struck the key.

The screen flashed to black. The cursor blinking in the top left corner.

After what seemed like and eternal pause, another message appeared on the screen: _Enter Pass Code_.

Sam entered the code the NID had given her for the exercise, hoping it was still valid.

Another pause.

Then she was in. A timer had also appeared in the bottom corner, alerting her to how long she had been there. She couldn't be in for more than ninety seconds. Hurriedly, she set about her task.

_Search: File names; 016835_

_2014327_

_4242133_

_7746215_

_8900016_

Within thirty seconds, all the files had been found. She proceeded with her commands.

_Copy and save files to hard drive._

The computer complied and she watched as a dialogue box updated her with the progress of the transaction. All the while, she kept a close eye on the timer, now coming up to 45 seconds. She was nearly done.

Just as the last file saved, the screen warped once again and was filled with the same computer code that had led her into the system.

"SHIT!" she cursed, knowing what it meant.

She had been found. The security team had clearly been working hard on the system since she had been working with them and had shaved a good thirty seconds off their record.

In a panic, Sam pulled the plug from the back of her machine. The screen fell completely dead. But she knew it would be too late. Her entire system would have been flooded with a virus the second they knew she was there. It was their way to track the incursion. They would also be able to see where the files she had taken would be sent to.

That part she didn't mind so much. It was explaining her part in it that was going to be hard.

* * *

Author's Note: Like I said before, sorry about the thin plot in this one. It was the only way I could think to write my way out that one! Remind me in the future NOT to do lots of technical stuff with computers!!! (Sorry if any of the funny symbols survived the editing!)


	5. Castling

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as the helpless puppet to a madman! ...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me for this story!

Author's Note: OK, hopefully the plot will be a little more substantial from now on in. It was just that one bit that was a pain to do. So, R&R as always. See you on the other side! Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 5 – Castling

Barrett stared at the screen in front of him. It couldn't be possible. There's no way she would do something like that. After all, she had been the one to always put trust first. There was no way she would so blithely betray him like that. There had to be something else going on.

He picked up the phone on his desk.

"This is Barrett," he said to the man on the other end. "I think we might have a problem... just give me a few days to check it out... no, no back-up needed, it shouldn't take too much to clear up... thank you sir, I will."

Replacing the receiver, he took another look at the screen in front of him before deleting the record from the system. It was the least he could do for her at this point. If it turned out there was something amiss, he would be able to retrieve it later. Right now, no-one was to know about it but him.

* * *

Sam was rudely awakened by the phone ringing beside her bed. Lazily, she turned on the light and glanced at the clock before she picked up the receiver.

"This had better be important, ass hole!" she said, her eyes still adjusting to the light and her suddenly conscious state of mind.

"Well, aren't we cheery first thing in the morning." Sam cringed at the sound of his familiar, patronising tone.

"It's 3:30. What do you want?" she snapped.

"Can't a guy call a beautiful woman in the middle of the night just to hear her voice?" he replied, his tone light and mockingly so. It made Sam's skin crawl.

"Sure he can," she said venomously. "If he's looking to do time!"

He laughed at her remark – setting her nerves on edge once more. She hated that sound.

"What do you want?" she asked again.

He was still laughing – much to her annoyance – but soon managed to control himself enough to answer her.

"Just thought I'd let you know I got everything. And, hey! I'm impressed! That wasn't a bad turn around on them either! I should have enlisted your help earlier."

Sam bit down the urge to hang up the phone for fear of what effect it might have on Jack. "Glad someone's happy about it," she said instead.

"Don't worry. You're doing great," he said in what was meant to be a reassuring tone, but was actually – as always – patronising.

But what he said gave Sam an idea.

"Can I ask you something?" she said calmly.

He was silent for a moment, as if debating whether he should let her continue or not.

"That depends on the question," he said carefully.

Sam smiled slightly; it was her turn to gain a little ground. She let him sweat a little; carefully considering how to proceed. Truth be told, there was two things she wanted to know from him. Maybe she could get them both in now. It was just a case of choosing words carefully.

"I'm guessing that The Bishop is your preferred pseudonym, yes?" she said lightly, thinking about the e-mail address he had supplied her with.

"Yes, it is actually." He sounded almost relieved as he spoke.

"Why," she said in all curiosity.

"That, as with everything else, will become apparent in time, my dear," he answered her.

"That wasn't the question, by the way," Sam continued, knowing fine well that he thought that she was finished. She enjoyed the small bit of power she was gaining over him. "How are you controlling the General's condition?" She knew it was still a long shot, asking like this, but she had to try!

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before it went completely dead.

"Damn it," Sam cursed under her breath. She put the phone down and flicked the light off once more. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep now, but she tried.

* * *

The next day, Barrett arrived at the source of the security breech. He knocked politely on her door and waited. All the time, he was hoping for some legitimate reason for her to have hacked into the system.

Perhaps his superiors had asked her to randomly test the system again and hadn't told him about it. Or the SGC had ordered her to do it. Or any of a number of different variations he had come up with during his journey from Washington.

Sam's stomach hit the floor when she opened the door. It was just what she had expected – and dreaded.

"Agent Barrett," she said in surprise.

"Colonel Carter," he replied.

It was difficult to tell, at this point, who was more nervous. Barrett for having to raise the subject; or Sam for having to lie to him about it.

"What brings you here?" she asked, breaking the silence that had descended between them. She already knew the answer, but she had to stall him. There was no way she could let him come inside. 'The Bishop' had the place riddled with bugs and goodness knows what else. If he got even the slightest inkling that the NID were there, Jack would be dead in an instant. She _had_ to keep him away!

"There was a security breech in the mainframe last night," Barrett informed her. His mouth suddenly dry as a bone. "It was traced back to here."

Sam leaned purposefully against the door frame.

"Really," she said hostily.

"I'm gonna have to take a look at your computer."

He made to move past her, but she obstructed his path.

"I can't let you do that, agent," she said harshly. "There are classified documents that not even you are permitted to see."

Barrett looked at her. He wasn't buying it. Not one bit.

"I'm sure you can direct me away from them." He tried once more to push past her.

"Barrett, please!" she said desperately. "I can't let you in here!"

"Do you realise how serious this is?!" he demanded. "Five highly sensitive files were stolen last night! Now, I'm assuming there's a perfectly reasonable answer for why the breech was traced to you, and I assure you. Colonel. I'm not leaving here until I find out what that is!"

They stared each other down for a moment. Finally, Sam gave in. She glanced reluctantly into her house. There was no way she could do this here. She stepped outside completely and closed the door behind her.

"You're right," she said in a hushed, conspiring sort of tone. The sort of tone that Barrett only ever heard from his most secret contacts. "There _is_ a perfectly reasonable answer. But it's not something I can discuss here." She hoped this would help get through to him.

Barrett viewed her with suspicion for a moment. She was pleading to him with her eyes. It was a look he had never seen in her before. And one he never expected to see either. Something told him she deserved the benefit of the doubt.

"OK," he said eventually, still with a great deal of reluctance and suspicion in his voice. "Meet me at the diner out on Route forty-two. You know the one?"

Sam nodded. "By the five-and-dine, yeah. What time?"

"When are you free?" he said coldly.

Sam winced at his tone. It was one that reminded her of her father when she got on his bad side.

"Give me an hour," she replied.

Barrett nodded and left.

Sam breathed a heavy sigh of relief. But it was short lived. From inside her house, she heard the phone ringing. She hurried inside.

"Who was that?" he asked before she was able to say anything.

"No-one," Sam replied.

He sighed in annoyance on the other end of the line. "You're a terrible liar, my girl. What do the NID want with you? You haven't blown the whistle, have you? You know what'll happen if you have!"

"NO!" she said quickly. "He came to me! They traced me when I stole those files for you. But I got rid of him. He doesn't know anything, I swear!"

She waited with baited breath as he considered her explanation. She had never known him to be so quiet on the line. And, frankly, it was unnerving.

"OK," he said after an eternity. Sam breathed again in relief. "You should be more carefully, my love. Stunts like that'll only serve to get our boy Jack killed."

Sam's skin crawled with every syllable he uttered, but he had her over a barrel at the moment. She still had to play along.

"I'm sorry. I will be," she replied, just as the line went dead.

Sam sat down in the nearest chair and breathed heavily. It was a fine line she was walking at the moment. Much finer than she cared to imagine. She looked at her watch. She still had most of the hour before she was due to meet Barrett. She just hoped 'he' wasn't able to follow her there.

* * *

"Would you like another re-fill, sir?" the waitress asked politely.

"Thank you," Barrett replied, holding out his mug to her. He glanced at his watch. He was fifteen minutes early and already three cups of coffee down. This was never a good sign for his nerves.

As he was half way though the forth, she came in.

Sam took a moment to glance around the diner before she spotted Barrett in one of the booths at the back.

'Gee! That doesn't look suspicious in any way!' she thought sarcastically as she took in the clichéd location for their secret meeting.

Silently, she made her way to him.

"You're early," she said sitting down opposite him.

Barrett looked up at her, eyes cold and unsympathetic. He glanced poignantly at his watch. "So are you," he said harshly.

It was all an act. They both knew that. But neither one was willing to be the first to show that, in actuality, they were nervous about the implications of their meeting. Sam more so than Barrett, as she actually knew fully what could happen if they were found out.

"Coffee, ma'am?" the waitress asked, still wielding her large pot of steaming hot black liquid.

"No thanks," Sam said politely.

The waitress soon left. Sam followed her with her gaze for a second. Anything to avoid looking at Barrett. That would mean getting started on business. Unfortunately for her, he had other plans.

"Care to tell me what's going on now?" His tone was still cold and sharp.

Sam slowly brought her gaze back to his. She paused for a moment. Unsure of where to start. Hesitant, even. For all the level headedness she was displaying, she couldn't shake the thought that as soon as she opened her mouth to say anything to him, Jack would suddenly flat line and it would all be on her head.

"Well?" Barrett prompted, his eyebrows raised, almost to his hair line.

Sam took a sharp intake of breath. "I assume you've heard about General O'Neill's condition?" she said in one breath.

Barrett nodded, failing to see what he had to do with anything at the moment.

"What you don't know," she continued. "Is that what happened to him was no accident. In fact, according to the base medical records, he was in perfect health."

"Oh, so you steel those as well as our files, then?" Barrett interrupted before he knew what he was saying.

Sam recoiled at his outburst. "You bastard!" she said maliciously. "You have no idea what is happening here! How dare you make assumptions about this!"

"Well, what am I supposed to think, Colonel? Security breeches like last night aren't exactly common occurrence!" he retorted.

"None of this is a 'common occurrence'. Agent," Sam spat. She let her statement settle for a moment before she carried on. "As I was saying, it wasn't an accident. Not long after General O'Neill's attack, I was contacted by a man who calls himself The Bishop. You heard of him at all?"

Barrett shook his head.

"Well, whoever he is, he caused the General's heart attack and resulting coma and can kill him at the flick of a switch unless I co-operate with him."

Barrett looked unconvinced. "He's controlling his condition? How?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me."

"Could that possibly be because he's _bluffing_?"

It was Sam's turn to shake her head. "I've seen what he can do," she said. She explained the incident with her toaster and what had happened to Mrs Wilson, across the street, and even the call she had received today only seconds after he had left. As she continued her story, Barrett became more and more drawn in. She could literally track the change in his attitude as the various stages of doubt, confusion, scepticism, realisation and belief played across his face. It was quite surreal to watch, especially since someone in his line of work was generally trained to hide such a change in opinion.

"So what's he getting you to do?" he asked, his cold tone now replaced with caution and concern.

"So far, not much. Just steel the NID files I swiped last night and some personnel files from the Pentagon."

Barrett's eyebrows shot up yet again. "Well, well. You have been busy!"

"What else could I do?!" Sam said, a little louder than she intended to. "I told you, he said no authorities. I know what he's capable of! I saw it myself! There was nothing I could do!"

"Then why are you telling me now?"

Sam closed her eyes for a second, to regain a little of her lost composure.

"Would you have left me alone if I hadn't?" she asked slowly.

"No," Barrett replied simply. "I'd've gone and come back with a warrant to search your house until I found what I was looking for."

"Exactly. I couldn't allow that. Somehow, The Bishop would have interpreted your intrusion as an attempt on my part to involve the NID in what was going on. Then he would have killed the General. Or, you would have taken the computer. Found what you wanted. Interrogated me about the stolen files, forcing me to blow the whistle, and once again, the General ends up dead."

Barrett looked up at her. Her face, like her tone, was absolutely set in stone. Not a muscle twitched in her tensed jaw. It was clear that she had had enough of her no-win situation.

The only feature that belied her hardened expression was her eyes. They were a wash with fear, pain, revulsion and a few more negative emotions that he could distinguish, but not name. Only someone who knew her much better than he could have named them – someone like the General. It was obviously eating her up inside knowing that she was the only thing keeping him alive right now. A burden like that must have been nearly impossible to bear alone.

Just as this thought passed his mind, a single tear spilled from her eyes and cascaded down her face. As it descended, it was as if she gave up hiding her true emotions. Her entire face broke. Her eyes slammed shut. Her jaw flinched as she gritted her teeth together. Finally, she shaded it all from his gaze with her hands.

Barrett could do nothing but sit and wonder. What sort of mind games had this maniac used to hold such a prominent grip over her? No way in her right mind would Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter have allowed such a slip in her guard.

The uncharacteristic breakdown caused his nerves to set on edge slightly as he downed the last of his now slightly tepid coffee. But mostly, it bred sympathy for her. That and the realisation the he, The Bishop, had to be stopped.

There was no way she could do it alone, though. And no way Barrett was going to let her try.

"What do you need?" he asked, taking her by surprise.

Sam looked back at him through tear smeared eyes. "What do you mean?" she queried.

"You're gonna need some sort of back up chain. What do you need?"

Sam fervently shook her head. "This isn't why I let you in on this!" she asserted. "I just need you off my back about the breech. I can take care of this ass hole on my own!"

Barrett tipped his head to one side. "Take a look in the mirror, Colonel," he said gently. "This is getting to you more than you're admitting."

Sam let her gaze drop away from his. Unfortunately, in doing so, she caught sight of her reflection in the shiny metal surface of the napkin dispenser. He was right. She couldn't keep this up on her own. The very fact that she was crying about it now was evidence enough for that.

"I have to do this alone," she said pitifully, more tears breaking though her defences. "He'll kill him if I don't."

Barrett placed a reassuring hand over hers.

"He won't find out," he said quietly.

Sam pulled her hand away from his. The last thing she needed right now was for him to start with the bravado rant.

"It's what I'm paid to do!" he pointed out. "I've spend most of my adult career tracing creeps like this and usually with less to go on than a pretentious pseudonym and a few stolen files."

Sam thought about his offer for a moment. It was true. This sort of work was right up his alley. Of course, it added another variable into an already precarious equation. If he put even one toe out of line, it would be too many. Something told her they weren't dealing with an amateur. He knew way too much about her (and maybe even more than he was letting on) for it to be some jumped up hacker with too much time on his hands. This guy was after something. She knew it. And would stop at nothing – including threatening the life of an Air force General.

Come to think of it, this wasn't the first time such action had been waged against the SGC. Only four years ago, General Hammond had resigned under similar threats. The culprits, then, had been NID. Maybe there _was_ more Barrett could do here...

Sam glanced suspiciously at Barrett. "Has the cancer in the NID been eliminated yet?" she asked cautiously. She knew this was a raw subject for the agent.

"No," he said, not liking where she was taking this. "Why?"

"Maybe you could start by checking out your own agency," she said, more boldly this time.

For a moment, Barrett felt like walking out of the diner and washing his hands of the whole situation. She always clung to that negative fraction of the NID. Whenever they met, it always coloured everything that went between them.

But then he remembered that a lot of the time, she tended to be right about them. A fact he was fairly reluctant to admit sometimes. But given the current state of affairs, he thought he may as well humour her for now. Who knows? She could have been wrong this time.

"I'll see what I can find out," he said cordially. "In the mean time, is there anything else you can give me to look into as well?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Give me a day or so. I'll get my hard drive to you. It should still have that security virus in it. You might be able to track the files."

Barrett nodded. "I'll see what I can do." He smiled, genuinely, and stood up from the booth.

"Just hang tight, OK?" he said as he placed a few dollars on the table for the coffee and then swiftly left the diner.

Sam sat mesmerised by the money for a moment. It wasn't the money itself she was staring at – or anything else in particular. She was merely staring through it all. Trying to picture a time before 'The Bishop' when she knew what she was doing! Trying to find some glimmer of normality in her addled mind.

Who was she kidding?! The only thing that could be described as 'normal' in her life was the cycle on her washing machine! It just happened that these past few days (or had it been weeks now?) had been even more topsy turvy than usual!

She shook herself out of the psychotic blur that would so easily take over if she let it and quickly made her way out of the diner as well. She had a lot of processing to do concerning her conversation with Barrett. And a lot of string pulling to do to make sure that his part in whatever twisted game of Chess they were in stayed strictly covert.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I hope this is still keeping y'all on your toes! Let me know if it isn't and I'll find some way to fit another 'U' bend in – be warned though, there's already lots more of those planned! ...Right! You're turn to review now! Thanx! 


	6. Zugzuwang

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as the helpless puppet to a madman! ...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me for this story!

Author's Note: I have a little confession to make... I'm feeling a bit bad at the moment cause the plan was to let y'all know how The Bishop was controlling Jack in this chapter. Sorry. That kinda didn't happen. Only have to wait a few more chapters for that though. Anyway, R&R as always (and please don't hate me)! Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language! (Also gets a little graphic in this one – don't worry it's not too bad, just thought I'd warn you).

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 6 – Zugzuwang

Despite the fact that Sam was still worried about Barrett's involvement in what was what going on, she found it reassuring to know she wasn't alone anymore. If anyone could keep a low profile on this, it was Barrett. She just hoped it would be low enough! Even so, the thought of back up gave her a well deserved confidence boost.

'Just don't let it go to your head, OK?' Barrett warned her as she handed over her computer hard drive.

'Please,' she said dismissively. 'With what's at stake, it's a wonder I've lasted this long. It's just nice to have an ally now.'

Barrett smiled. He understood. It had been an equally blessed relief when he had her help in taking down The Committee. There really was something to be said about combined resources.

'OK,' he conceded. 'Just watch your back, alright?'

Sam appreciated his concern. She smiled and left his office.

That had all been two days ago now, and Sam was beginning to feel just a little anxious that she had heard nothing from either him or The Bishop, giving her further instructions. Mind you, the added silence of not having the phone ringing off the hook was a relief, but she would rather bee doing something to help Jack than sitting around worrying about it.

Sam made her way cautiously through the hospital ward. She hadn't seen him since they transferred him here, and being here now made her stomach churn with guilt for everything that had been going on. His room was at the end of the hall. She could see his door open and the cleaner making her way around the room. Finally, she could actually se his bed. She hadn't realised just how many tubes and machines he was linked to. There was one to help him breath. One monitoring his heart. An IV line supplying some sort of nourishment to his inactive body. And then a few others beside that Sam couldn't be bothered to name. The others should have been enough. She hesitated at the door; saddened by the helpless sight of the General before her.

"You his wife?" the cleaning lady asked innocently.

It took a moment to register she was talking to her.

"Oh. No," she replied. "He's not married. I'm just a friend."

The cleaner nodded. "He's had a few visitors, this lad here," she said kindly.

"Who?" Sam asked, trying to hide the urgency in her tone. What if 'he' had been here messing with the machines?!

"Two men, I think. You might know them. They were work colleagues. Tall coloured guy. Wears a hat all the time. And a guy with glasses."

"Teal'c and Daniel," Sam informed her. "Has there been anyone else?"

"Only the nurses and the occasional doctor, dear."

Sam nodded. So, no tampering then. That was something, at least.

"You want a minute with him?" the lady asked.

Sam smiled and fully stepped into the room. She was soon left alone.

For a long while, she hovered at the end of his bed, unsure of what she was actually doing here.

"Hey sir," she said eventually, making her way to the chair by his bed. "Sorry I haven't been to visit. Things have been sort of crazy round here lately..."

She paused. She had always been told that comatose people could still hear everything around them, but sitting here talking to his motionless form seemed pointless.

If he really could hear her, then there was no way she was going to let him know anything about what was really going on. How could she anyway?

'Hey General, how's it going? By the way, there's a mad man who can kill you in an instant, but don't worry. I'm helping him in his sordid scheme to stop him from doing just that. So how's your week been so far?'

Even if he was conscious, she would have thought twice about telling him. There would be too many questions. Too many worried glances. She hated them the most. She was so used to him having the utmost confidence in her that she would have been mortified if he thought she was in over her head about something.

And in this matter, she was.

Sam leaned against the edge of the bed and idly traced her fingers down his arm and over his tube riddled elegant hand.

"God, Jack. I really need you here," she muttered helplessly. She didn't care if he had heard that or not.

She took hold of his hand, pained by the fact that the action merited no response from him. His fingers were limp in her grasp and their usual warmth was a mere fraction of its usual comforting presence. But it was enough for her mind to stop racing with panic. The warmth proved he was still alive (if barely). The Bishop hadn't beaten her. Not yet. And he wasn't going to. Not if she could help it. Not on her watch.

She sat clinging to his hand until her thoughts were interrupted.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said a nurse from the door. "There's a telephone call for you."

Slowly, Sam stood and made her way along the corridor to where the receiver was sat on the main desk waiting for her.

"Hello?" she said, hoping it would be Barrett.

"Hey sweetness!" replied that hateful, patronising, unnerving voice.

Sam's whole body tensed in fear and anticipation while her stomach and heart felt lie lead weights inside of her.

"Long time no hear," he continued. "How've you been?"

"Peachy," she answered monotonously.

He laughed. She winced and bit back the urge to throw up.

"So what is it this time? Want me to break into the White House?"

The Bishop was smiling at his end of the line, she could tell – she could always tell.

"No," he said coyly. "No. Nothing quite so adventurous. How's your marksmanship looking at the moment?"

Sam's heart began to beat painfully hard inside her chest. "Why?" she asked cautiously.

"Cause I got a little project for you. See, over in Massachusetts, there's this man – old man at that – and he's not what you'd call a, eh, 'Model Citizen', shall we say. I need you to kill him."

Sam froze solid. She literally couldn't move – not even if she had wanted to. She only hoped the nurses milling around her didn't notice. The last thing she needed was a scene.

"You want me to... what?!" she repeated slowly, hoping she had heard him wrong.

"Kill him."

It disgusted her at how laid back he was sounding about it all. Like he was asking her to pop down to the corner shop for a pint of milk or something.

"No," she said quietly.

"Excuse me?" His tone was still light. Not like the last time she had refused to comply. He had gotten angry then.

"NO!" she shouted. "I won't do it! There's no way!"

"Really? No way? You sure?"

Before she could reply and tell him where to shove it, there was an ear-splitting single tone emitting from the end of the corridor.

Doctors, nurses and orderlies dived for the room, wheeling all sorts of machines with them.

"No," Sam whispered, dropping the phone onto the desk. She walked down the corridor, picking up speed as she went, even though her legs felt like she was walking through molasses.

As she neared the open door, she could see the group of medics stood around Jack's bed.

"Clear!" one of them shouted. Followed by a thud as an electric charge was pumped into his chest, causing his torso to leap momentarily from the mattress.

"Charge 120!"

"NO!" Sam screamed, finally finding her voice in the confusion.

"Somebody get her out of here!" shouted the head doctor of the group.

One of the nurses peeled away and headed towards Sam.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you can't be in here right now."

"No! I want to see him! Please, you don't understand!"

Sam tried to push past her but two men had caught her from behind and were pulling her away.

"No!" she protested. "Let me go! I have to see! I need to be in there!"

But no-one was listening to her. The door was closed.

All she could hear from within was the occasional "Clear!" followed by the 'Thud' of the paddles.

Sam slumped helplessly against the wall, not relying on her legs to hold her weight. He'd done it. The bastard had actually done it!

Then she remembered the phone. And his ridiculous demand. How the hell did he expect to get her to do it now? Jack was gone! Wasn't he?

She staggered back to the desk and with a shaking hand, she picked up the receiver.

"You fucking bastard!" she hissed.

"Thought you'd say that," he replied calmly. "Did I get your attention back?"

"You got yourself one less puppet, that's what you got, ass hole! Go to hell!" Tears streamed down her face as she thought of Jack's lifeless body in the next room.

"Now, now. Don't go leaping to irrational conclusions... How long do they usually pound on people's chest before they give up?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He was smiling again. She knew it.

"I mean, Samantha, you have a choice. Either let that crash team give up on our boy Jack and then get yourself ready for his funeral. Or, you can change your pretty little mind and there's another switch here that'll get his heart going again. What d'ya say?"

Sam screwed her eyes shut.

"It's quite simple, love. Only one person has to die here. Now will it be Jack, or Mr Criminal in Massachusetts?"

She could still hear them in his room: "Clear!" – Thud!

"Jack, Massachusetts. Massachusetts, Jack!"

"Clear!" – Thud!

"Alright," she said quietly, her voice wavering. "What do I have to do?"

As soon as she had said it, she heard the doctors announce "Normal Sinus Rhythm." The crash team emerged from his room looking worn, but relieved.

A feeling that Sam only half shared.

* * *

This is what she had been told: The target – he wouldn't give a name – lived on his own in Franklin, a small town just outside of Boston Massachusetts. Sam was to head for the Mikado Motel where a room had been reserved for her under the name of 'Samantha Bishop'. An alias that, frankly made her skin crawl just thinking about it. In the room would be everything she needed to know for 'the project', as he had so eloquently put it.

"Oh, and Sam," he said before hanging up. "There's another time limit on this, of course. I'll be calling your Motel room at sunset tomorrow. It had better be taken care of by then."

Just to be sure, Sam had checked on Jack before she left the hospital. He looked just as peaceful as he had been when she arrived that day. The machines he was connected to were all beeping away to themselves. He was still alive.

When she finally arrived home, she found airline tickets waiting for her on her door mat, along with a hire car contract and directions to the Motel. As she drove to the airport, her mobile phone rang.

"What is it now, as hole?!" she snapped.

"Colonel?" Barrett queried on the other end of the line.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "What have you got?" She hoped he had found the creep. That way she wouldn't have to go through with this 'project'.

"Not much I'm afraid," he said heavily. "We were able to retrieve the Security Virus from your hard drive, but as far as tracking it... It seems this guys using about every communication satellite we have up there – and some of the Russian's – to scramble his signal. We just can't get a lock on him."

Sam sighed heavily. She should have known this wouldn't be so simple. No such thing as a free lunch, and all that.

"What about your search of the NID files?" she asked, hoping for better news.

"Sorry. Nothing yet. I'll keep you posted though."

"Well, if you need me before tomorrow night, I'll be at the Mikado Motel, outside of Boston."

"Massachusetts?" Barrett said in disbelief. "What the hell's he got you going there for?"

"I'll explain later. I have a plane to catch right now."

And she was glad she really did as well. It was a convenient way to get out of telling him the whole truth. She just knew he'd try and talk her out of it. And under any other circumstances, she'd let him. But not today. Jack couldn't afford for her to chicken out now.

Barrett just wouldn't have understood it.

Heck! She barely understood it herself!

* * *

The instructions that awaited her at the motel room took the form of a tape and Dictaphone. She half expected it to self-destruct when it came to an end. He had used just about every other cliché there was, why not that one too? But he didn't.

"Hey beautiful!" it said. "Welcome to Your Project 101. In the second draw of the dresser, under the Gideons', in an envelope containing your target's address. At the moment, he's out of town, but should be getting home around 4pm today. Your prime shot at him, therefore, will be as he gets out of his car on arrival. The house opposite his is conveniently empty at the moment. For Sale sign just went up last week. Your weapon – and, of course, gloves – are in the upstairs bed room that looks over your target's drive. Take him out from there, and then run like hell before the cops arrive. Leave the weapon; take the weapon, its up to you. Just remember the gloves. I'll know if you fail on this one, princess, so make it a good shot."

The tape stopped abruptly. Sam's heart sank into her boots. She hated this prick more than she had hated anything else in the world. But there was no way out now. She knew everything she needed to about her target. She glanced at her watch. It was 2:30.

Reluctantly, she picked up her room key and jacket and headed for her hire car. She had just enough time to get over there and check it all out before 4pm.

* * *

It was all exactly as the tape has said. The house opposite had a brand new For Sale sign stood outside it and the back door was open, giving her easy access and also a quick escape route, given that the back of the house opened onto woodland. She could easily disappear in that lot.

She went inside. It was perfectly spotless; clearly the estate agent had spruced it up a bit for the big sell. There were new fittings in the kitchen. The hallway had been recently painted. And non-descript but pleasant pictures adorned the wall leading up the stairs. The top floor displayed a similar scene. Everything was bright and cheery, full of quirky little features that were a dream for Real Estate.

Through the open door of the second bedroom on the left, she could see the view of the window, looking down onto the street. She went inside.

Sat on the chair by the window was a case. Inside, she assumed, was her weapon. Hands shaking, she opened it and gazed at the many pieces of a Sound Suppressed Revolver Rifle.

Sam's heart began to beat double quick.

Was she actually going through with this?! Even as she arrived at the motel. She had harboured the hope that Barrett would contact her with the identity of this bastard. She even deluded herself into thinking that maybe it was all an elaborate test to see how far she'd go to save Jack. This notion was soon dismissed when she realised it just wasn't his MO. He hadn't been bluffing so far. Why start now?

She checked her watch.

3:30.

She had to get set up. Her 'target' would be arriving soon.

Sam mechanically began to fit the rifle together, piece by piece. Click by click. If she hadn't been so numbed by the task before her, she might have even stopped to admire how quickly she had assembled it. Any of her instructors at the Academy would have been proud of her efforts.

But this was no time for an ego trip.

Just as she loaded the gun and chambered the first – and hopefully only – bullet, she heard the scratching sound of gravel giving way to tires. She glanced out of the window. He was early. By her watch, she still had fifteen minutes before he was due back.

The car in the drive bellow slowly ground to a halt and shut down. The driver's side door opened out stepped – true to her instructions – an old-ish man, maybe in his late sixties (early seventies at the most). But contrary to what Sam had assumed, he wasn't elderly looking. He was still well toned and quite sprightly looking for his age. Most worrying of all, he didn't look criminal. They usually had a shifty sort of gait to their walk. This man was perfectly at ease.

As he removed his bag and slammed the boot shut, Sam took aim, sliding the window open slightly as she did. He was walking towards his front door, keys in one hand, bag in the other. She had a perfect shot.

OK. It was now or never, she told herself. Now. Or. Never.

'I've always preferred now to never,' she remembered the General saying once. Of course, that hadn't been over killing a man. Right now, she preferred never.

He was nearly at the door.

Now or never...

She squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit him square between the shoulders. Perfect shot. But instead of just falling straight to the ground as they usually did, he stumbled, staggered for a bit and turned around.

He knew exactly where that bullet had come from. As he turned, Sam almost gagged at seeing half of his chest blown off by the force of the bullet ripping through him at unimaginable speed.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

He looked straight up at the window and saw her just before he finally collapsed on the driveway. Dead.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed jumping away from the window.

The recognition in his eyes had said it all. He still remembered her. Not surprising, really, since he had been pretty close to her father before he joined the Tok'ra. Sam clasped her hand over her mouth, just in time to see the man's wife emerge from the house, screaming in horror at the sight of her husband.

"Someone help me!" she cried as people began to come out of their homes to see what the commotion was. "Call the police!"

As soon as she heard that, Sam turned tail and ran. She had just reached her car when blue lights and sirens began to wail down the street.

She took in a few steady breaths before she turned the key in the ignition. The last thing she needed was to speed away and draw attention to herself, although that's exactly what her instincts were telling her to do. Floor it. Get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible.

Her mind was racing as she drove. That man wasn't some old criminal. He was a three-star United States Air Force General! A good one at that. Not a blemish on his record (that she knew of at least). And he wasn't alone either. He had a wife. Three kids and goodness knows how many grandchildren by now. His youngest daughter had been Sam's age. They were really good friends until her mum had died and she began to hate everything Air Force for a while. They hadn't spoken in a long time, but still!

She arrived at her motel room and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Shit!" she screamed, throwing just about everything she could lay her hands on at the far wall. But it didn't help. The feeling of overwhelming guilt and self-loathing was already churning her stomach.

Finally, she retched. She felt as if her insides were trying to escape through her mouth, it was that violent. But soon it subsided to dry heaving before she was able to control herself at last.

Then came the shaking. And the tears. Tears that mixed with the sheen of cold sweat that clung to her paled face.

Unable to stop the tremor in her hands or the rest of her body, she reached for the phone by her bad and dialled.

He answered quickly.

"Barrett," she said pitifully, barely audible. "I need you here."

* * *

Author's Note: OK, that's enough cruelty for now. Hope no-one had a heart attack from that one! Don't forget to review! Thanx. 


	7. Stalemate

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as the helpless puppet to a madman! ...

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me for this story!

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait for this chapter. Christmas was supposed to be my time to get a few fanfics updated… That clearly didn't happen, so here we are! Please R&R as always! Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Dedication: This chapter is for Shona. You'll see why, luv!...

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 7 – Stalemate

Two hours later, Barrett came barrelling through her motel room door, expecting to find a scene of destruction and decimation. Or at least some sign of a struggle.

He stopped dead just over the threshold. Gun drawn. Eyes and ears alert to any danger.

What he saw was perfectly normal. The bed stood at a right angle to the main supporting wall. On one side was a bed side table with lamp and phone sat neatly on top. Opposite the bed was the chest of draws with a mirror hung on the wall above it. Over the other side of the room was the entrance to the en-suite bathroom, the wall of which was about a foot and a half away from the far side of the bed.

In that gap, curled into a seated foetal position was Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter. She was rocking gently backwards and forwards; her eyes gazing, unfocused, on a patch of carpet about two feet away from her. Her face and hands were pale in shock and exhaustion. Her skin still harboured a sheen of cold sweat that – along with her pale complexion – made her look decidedly ill, if not ghost-like.

She didn't move or even flinch when Barrett had entered; and seemed to be completely oblivious to his presence as he slowly, cautiously, made his way around to the side of the bed where she sat.

"Colonel?" he said uncertainly, trying to provoke some sort of acknowledgement of his presence.

She didn't react.

By now he was standing right over the spot she was staring at – or more accurately, through.

"Colonel," he said again, he crouched down in front of her, trying to assess what could have possibly evoked such a state. There was no sign of injury on her that he could see and no sign in the room that suggested there had been some sort of struggle here.

All the time, Sam was just sitting there; rocking and staring. Rocking and staring. She wasn't even crying.

"Sam?" Barrett whispered, placing his hand over hers.

The instant he made contact with her skin, she jumped. Suddenly, her eyes had life in them. She looked at Barrett, confused for a moment, then she recognised him and her eyes filled with tears. She threw her arms around him.

"Oh thank god!" she sobbed, her entire body shaking in shock and grief.

Unsure of himself, Barrett returned the embrace. He let her cry out what she needed to.

Sam didn't care how out of character her behaviour seemed to him. These were extraordinary circumstances. And no will power in the world would have been able to maintain her usual composure. An annoying voice in her head kept asking her; 'What would you rather, him or O'Neill?'

She tried her hardest to block it out but it kept repeating; 'Him or O'Neill?'

Eventually, Barrett's soothing voice brought her back from the brink of insanity.

"Hey," he said quietly, prising her away from his body. He looked at her tear stained face for a moment, trying to catch her eye. She refused to look at him, so he tipped her chin with his finger, forcing her gaze into his.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

It took a few tear soaked attempts for her to actually answer, but she began to explain how The Bishop had phoned her at the hospital. She just managed to keep from retching when she told him how had caved to his demands and ended up here.

"Did you do it?" Barrett asked, already fairly sure of the answer.

The look she gave him was answer enough. It basically said 'What the hell do you think?!' with a few more expletives thrown in for emphasis. It didn't last long though, as another wave of tears swept through.

He pulled her back into his arms.

"C'mon. It's alright. It's over. You're gonna be fine," he said while all the time worrying about what the consequences for her actions would be.

"No!" she said suddenly. "It's not alright! That's not even the worst of it!"

"There's more?!" he said in disbelief. What could 'he' possibly have gotten her to do that was worse than that?!

Sam took in a few deep breaths before she answered.

"I knew him."

Barrett took a while to register what she was saying.

"The man you shot?"

Sam winced. It was only just beginning to hit home what she had done.

"Well, who was it?!" Barrett demanded.

"He was my old CO from the Gulf War. General David Gibson. He was the one who recommended me for the Stargate Project in the first place."

Barrett froze when she said the victim's name. It couldn't have been! There was no way! They take months to decode, he thought.

Sam noticed the look on his face – somewhere between horror and denial.

"What?" she said. "Barrett, what is it?"

He didn't say anything. He was still trying to work it all through in his own head.

"Barrett!"

He jumped at the sudden edge in her voice.

"Gibson was under NID protection," he said plainly.

"What?!" Sam didn't understand what she was being told.

"The files you – The Bishop got you to steal from the mainframe were witness protection files. Gibson's was one of them."

Sam stared in disbelief. Gibson was under protection? Why?!

"But it doesn't make sense!" Barrett said standing to his feet. He began to pace the area of floor between the bed and chest of drawers. "Those files were so heavily encrypted, it would take anyone months to break into them. He's had them for less than two weeks!"

"Well maybe he's got some other inside source in the NID who did that part for him," Sam queried.

"Then why go to all that trouble to get you to steal them in the first place?"

Sam couldn't answer that. She flatly refused to think that this asshole was just messing with her head because he got a kick out of it. All along the way, there had been something in what he said to her that suggested a method to his madness. He had an agenda in mind and she was merely his tool.

"I take it the search of the NID itself brought up nothing, right?" she asked.

Barrett shook his head.

Sam sighed. "It was a long shot anyway… Look, why was Gibson under protection in the first place?"

"Someone tried to kill him," he answered with a hint of irony in his voice.

Sam didn't react to it. She was too concerned with why her old friend had been hiding.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"Who was what?"

"The person trying to kill him."

"An Air Force officer who used to be under his command. A Simon Carnall. He'd been tormenting him and another A.F General for some time, because… What?" He looked at the dumbfounded expression on Sam's face. As if the ground had just been pulled out from under her.

"Simon was my co-pilot in the Gulf," she said quietly.

A thick silence descended over the room, only broken at last by Sam's determined effort to stand up.

"That's impossible!" she said, thumping the wall with her balled fist. "It can't have been him! Simon died in Iraq, back in '91!"

Barrett shook his head emphatically.

"No he didn't. he was brought up on charges for some botched mission and was dishonourably discharged. He blamed Gibson for what happened, so went after him."

"But he told me!…" Sam said in a daze of incomprehension. "He told me he died in trying to get me out!"

"Who told you?"

"Gibson!" She sank down onto the bed and shoved her hands through her short blond hair, trying to clear her mind.

Barrett looked at her. He didn't need to ask her to explain. She had to anyway.

"The mission was called Operation Checkmate. I was part of the team heading the first attack that was meant to severely weaken an enemy base. Then the second team was to go in and take it out completely."

She paused a moment to make sure Barrett was following what she was saying.

"But it went wrong. Somehow the base had found out about the attack and was ready for us… We lost most of our team in the assault and my plane was shot down. I woke up three weeks later in hospital with Gibson standing over me, saying my co-pilot had been killed trying to get me to safety." She tried her hardest to hold back the next wave of tears threatening to break through.

Barrett sat next to her on the bed.

"What happened to the second team?" he asked.

"I don't know. No-one ever told me."

"And you never wondered why?!"

Sam snapped round to look at him, her eyes hard set with anger but glistening with tears. "It's called Chain of Command, Barrett! I was only a Lieutenant then. I only got told what I needed to know. Nothing more. I didn't even know who was heading the second team or what their codename was, let alone what happened to them!"

Barrett nodded in understanding and silently apologised for provoking her.

"So what was your codename?" he asked trying to move on.

"Victoria-four," she told him with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"What's so funny about that?"

"Nothing," she replied, still smiling. "It's just something Simon said one time about our codenames… Our team was Victoria because with the whole Chess analogy out commanders had given the op, we were deemed the most important player, like the Queen on a chess board. Hence, Queen Victoria. The base we were taking out was like the King – the thing that had to be captured. It was code-named Albert – after Victoria's husband. Only Simon kept pointing out that Albert wasn't technically a king. He –"

Sam stopped dead in her tracks, thinking over what she had just said.

"Barrett," she said eventually. "Why was Simon dishonourably discharged?"

"I'm not entirely sure," he said honestly. "I think it was something to do with they had evidence that he had been conspiring with the Iraqis."

Sam closed her eyes and her shoulders sagged a little.

"Why?" Barrett asked in all curiosity.

"Albert," she said plainly. "When The Bishop first contacted me, he pretended to he was just a wrong number looking for someone called Albert."

Silence drifted back between them for a moment.

"It's him," Sam said, almost in defeat. "He's The Bishop."

She was furious. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. Mind you, thinking he had been dead for thirteen years hadn't helped, but still! She was just about ready to throw something at the far wall, when the phone by the bed began to ring.

Sam sprang away from the bed and flattened herself against the wall.

"Oh god! It's him! He said he'd call now!" she said, panicked.

"You should answer it."

Sam looked at Barrett as if he was nuts. She did not want to talk to him in this state. With her luck, she'd end up saying something to really get Jack killed!

"You might be able to turn this around! Now that you know who he is!"

Sam thought for a moment as the phone continued to ring. Turn this around. That's all she had to do. Hold something over him that would put her ahead. But what did she have, other than his identity?

She had a pretty decent poker face and not a lot else! Maybe she could bluff her way through…

Reluctantly, she reached across the bed for the receiver.

"Hello?" she said quietly.

"Is it done?" There was no mocking humour in his voice. He was serious. As serious now as Sam could remember Simon ever being.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Good. I've something else for you –"

Before he could go further, Sam interrupted him.

"Simon, why are you doing this to me?!"

The line was quiet.

"You figured it out?" he said quietly.

Sam was close to tears again. How could this be him? He was dead!

"Honestly, I thought you'd have got it a little sooner," he told her.

"I would have," she answered, her voice wavering slightly. "But Gibson told me you were dead."

Simon sucked a breath in through his teeth. "He did, eh?"

"Look, what are you doing?"

He didn't reply.

"Whatever they did to you… It can't be worth all of this!" She was trying to keep him on the line and it had nothing to do with getting the upper hand. Just hearing him – knowing it was him – made it impossible for her to hate him anymore. This was her friend!

"Simon?"

Nothing.

"Simon, I want to meet with you. Where are you?"

The line went dead.

Sam stood with the receiver to her ear for a little while, as if it were suddenly going to start transmitting his voice again. But it didn't. She placed it gently in its cradle again and looked at Barrett.

"It was him," she said as if saying it out loud would mean it finally hit home to her that he was alive.

"What did he say?" Barrett asked, alright figuring it hadn't quite gone as he had hoped.

Sam shook her head. She knew Barrett would be disappointed with the out come. This was his chance to finally nail the guy that had been terrorising Air Force Generals for the last decade or so. But it was Simon! She couldn't hand him over! They'd been through too much together. He saved her life, for crying out loud!… Or had that been a lie too? Maybe he was the man Barrett had told her he was. What if he had sold them out?

She had to know what had really happened for the last thirteen years. And the only person who could tell her had just hung up on her with no indication that he would ever be in contact again.

And the worst part? She didn't know what effect all this would have on Jack!

* * *

Author's Note: Only two chapters to go now! Hopefully won't be too long before I update next (but then I always say that, don't I!). Don't forget to review! Thanx.


	8. Queening

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as a helpless puppet to a mad man…

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me!

Author's Note: OK… Welcome to Chapter 8! Not much to say about this one. So, please R&R as always! Thanx. Enjoy!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 8 – Queening

Midnight.

Time had a tendency to speed up when Sam was feeling like this. That is, numb. Completely bereft of feeling. She could barely feel her feet touching the floor as she walked along the hospital corridor.

It had been eight hours since she had killed Gibson for Simon – a man she thought was long gone. But she could have sworn it was only two hours since. In that time, she had had no correspondence, what so ever, with Simon.

Two days ago, she would have been glad of this fact. But not now. Now she knew who he was and she feared for both him and for Jack.

She had already been warned that if she tried anything, Jack would be killed. And the way he had hung up on her before made her worry that that was the end of the 'game' and she had lost.

She turned the last corner onto the long corridor where his room was.

As she approached the door, her heart rate began to quicken.

Her hand closed over the door handle and she entered.

He was still there. As were the machines he was hooked up to.

Sam's whole body relaxed a little at the sight of him. She made her way to the chair next to his bed, sat down and cried.

* * *

Eight Hours Earlier… 

"Simon, I want to meet with you. Where are you?"

Without thinking, Simon slammed the phone down.

Meet?! What did she want to do that for? She was complicating things. Not playing by the rules.

And he'd warned her about it before!

Angered, he stood up and went to his computer. Seconds later, he was staring at the image being transmitted from General O'Neill's hospital room. There were two men in the room with him. One had mousy brown hair and glasses. The other was coloured and built like a WWF wrestler. He'd been watching this crowd for long enough to know that these were the General's old team mates, before his promotion.

And they had no idea what was going on.

In the bottom corner of his screen was an icon that simply said 'Activate'. All he had to do was press that and it was over. He was so angry now, that he could do it.

But he didn't.

Instead, he closed the surveillance window, opened a blank e-mail message and began to type.

* * *

The next morning, Sam was woken up by the cleaner coming into Jack's room. 

"Gave you quite a scare the other day, didn't he?" she said cheerily.

Sam smiled as she sat up straight. Her head had been resting by Jack's IV-riddled hand on the side of the bed. Now, her neck was so stiff, she could barely move it.

"You been here all night?"

"Pretty much," Sam replied sleepily. "What time is it?"

The cleaning lady glanced at her watch.

"Just gone 7:30, dear." She carried on working.

Sam stared at the General's unmoving body for a moment. He was safe for now, she thought. If Simon was going to kill him for last night, he'd have done it already. She sighed as she stiffly stood up.

Taking one last look at Jack, she left.

* * *

The only thing capable of taking Sam's mind off Jack was her work. As soon as she got home, she booted up her computer ready to be completely submerged in test results and data analysis. 

Instead, she was instantly alerted to a new e-mail message in her inbox. Still dazed and not fully awake, she opened it up.

It woke her up in seconds:

_Sam, you want to know the truth?_

_Be at the old Buxton Factory off Interstate 32 at 0830 hours._

_Don't be late._

_Simon._

Sam glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 8:10 already.

Without turning her computer off again, she made a beeline for the door, picking up her car keys and jacket as she went.

She didn't even stop to call Barrett. This wasn't the right place for the NID. They would want to shoot Simon on sight for what happened to Gibson.

She wanted answers.

* * *

The old Buxton factory was a shell of a building. One that should have been torn down eons ago. It had been shut down for nearly two decades now and in that time, had been gutted out by looters and law firms alike. Now, it was Simon's base. 

The heavily rusted, corrugated-iron door groaned as Sam eased it open and stepped inside. The derelict building loomed for four storeys above her, completely hollow. Her foot falls echoed around it, shaking what was left of the old window panes.

"Simon!" she called into the empty space.

His name bounced around the factory, scaring a flock of resting pigeons in the rafters.

Nervously, Sam glanced at her watch. 8:28. at least he couldn't complain that she was late.

She continued her way across the factory floor, stepping over and round various broken pieces of machinery and debris left by whoever had owned the property last.

"Simon!" she called again, more impatiently.

"Hey Sam." A voice came from behind her. "Long time no see."

Sam spun round on her heels and stopped dead in her tracks, face to face with the man she never thought to see again.

"Surprised?" he quipped, reading her expression perfectly.

Simon stepped further into the dusty light, filtering through the windows. He looked old. Worn out by time and then dragged through a hedge backwards. But it was unmistakably him. Her co-pilot as he had been. And chief advice giver on her often tumultuous love life. It had been Simon she turned to when things got rough with Jonas. And Simon who was now making her life hell for reasons completely beyond her understanding.

It was almost impossible for her to see him as both.

"It's good to see you… In person that is," he said, filling the silence.

Sam allowed herself a half smile.

"You been watching for long?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Simon nodded. "Always. Right from when you were let out of hospital in '91 to now."

"How?"

"Ah, you know me and machines," he said waving his hand dismissively. "You'd be amazed at how easy it is to use the internet to track people without the Government even knowing!"

"Why didn't you just… I don't know… let me know you were OK?"

Simon shrugged, annoying her a little at how nonchalant he was being about the whole matter.

"I was dead to you, Sam," he said, a slight hint of regret in his voice. "I couldn't argue with that."

"Then why now?"

Simon turned his gaze away from her. This was the part he hadn't been looking forward to at all. There was no way she was going to understand. She had been 'institutionalised' for too long.

"Technology," he said simply.

Sam furrowed her eyebrows at his answer.

"How else was I going to get your attention?" he continued. "Actually, it was you that sorted that conundrum out for me as it happens."

He began pacing as he explained.

"You remember Argos? The nano-bots that got into the General – Colonel as he was then?… How do you think I've been controlling him all this time?!"

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You infected him with nano-bots? How?!"

"Well, nano-particles, this time. The 'bots would have shown up in a blood test. The particles in Jack are atomic sized. You'd be pretty impressed by them, you know. They work through distributed processing."

"What?!" Sam really couldn't believe what she was being told. It was like something out of a bad Sci-Fi novel.

"Yep. Each individual particle stores a tiny part of data that on its own is useless, but with other particles' information, they can function as one. Neat, huh?"

"So you've got them programmed to, what? Kill him?" For the first time since she had found out who her advisory was, Sam was beginning to feel just a little of the hate that she had felt for him before had.

"At the moment, they're just keeping him down. Making sure his main functions don't work properly. If I shut them off completely he'll wake up within about two days. But if I hit the other button, they collect in his Coronary Artery, restrict blood flow and send him into arrest, as you have seen."

There was almost a sense of pride in his explanation, like it had been some great achievement (which, scientifically, it had been). The boastful edge to his voice made Sam hate him even more.

"Really, Sam, I owe you a lot for this one. Without those nano-bots to use as prototypes, I never would have been able to engineer the particles."

Sam shook her head in disgust. "Simon, this is insane! What the hell do you think you're playing at here?!"

"I'm 'playing' at getting my life back!" he suddenly shouted, taking her off guard. She soon recovered, though.

"How does threatening the life of a man you've never even met before get your life back?!"

"Well, if I told you that, I'd have to kill you, Sam." His voice was suddenly the eerily calm tone he had used in his first phone call to her, and it enraged her.

"Cut the crap, Carnall! You brought me here to give me answers and I'm not leaving without them! What the hell is going on?!"

Simon was still for a moment.

"How did you get them into him, then?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"I snuck onto the base and managed to pose as one of the medics during a routine check up. That was the easy part. The hard part came in switching the needles for Fraiser to give him."

"Fraiser?"

"He's had those things in him for the last six months. I just needed the right moment to start all this off!"

"But why?! What's the point in all this?"

Simon looked at her. His face completely serious.

"Follow me," he said eventually.

He led the way into a small room at the back of the factory (what had been the Forman's office). Once inside, Sam was stunned by the sight that greeted her.

Every inch of wall was covered by maps and scribblings of tactical information. There were four computers and five TV screens, each showing various angles of the interior of her house, her lab at the SGC and of Jack's hospital room.

"What is all this?" she said in wonder.

"This is what I've worked for," he answered. He crossed the room to one of the computer screens and began typing various commands. Soon, a document flashed up on the screen. He beckoned Sam over to look at it.

"The debrief memo for Operation Checkmate," he told her as her eyes scanned over it. "You remember it?"

"The mission?"

Simon nodded.

"Yeah." She carried on reading it, lost slightly in the memories it kicked up.

"You may remember, then, that it didn't exactly go to plan. The problem was that Gibson and Frakes – the General in charge of the second wave – grossly under estimated just how many troops were at the Iraqi base. It had nothing to do with us not hitting the damn thing enough, there was just much more of it for us to hit."

Sam kept staring at the screen as he continued his story, not daring to look at him just yet.

"When the second team went in, the base was still operational and there were heavy casualties. Gibson and Frakes just figured it would be easier to use a scapegoat rather than own up to their own incompetence. Guess where I fitted into that little plan? I was dishonourably discharged and they got away with it."

"So, what? This is just revenge?" Sam asked, looking at him at last.

"Not just for me, Sam," he said. "This is for you and the General as well… I honestly can't believe they still let you under his command given your history with him."

"What the hell does that mean?" Sam spat, hoping he wasn't referring to a certain regulation that the two of them had been skirting since day one.

"Don't worry, this has nothing to do with your personal life. Although I have to say, Sam, you sure as hell know how to pick 'em!"

Sam managed to hold back from hitting him. Just barely, though.

"No you two go further back than the SGC, my dear," he paused to make sure he had her full attention. He wanted to make absolutely sure she got the full picture on this one.

"I suppose he's told you he was captured in Iraq? A little parachuting accident during the Gulf? Don't suppose he told you what the mission was?"

He waited for some response from her. But Sam was completely frozen to the spot. 'It couldn't have been!' she thought. Simon smiled at her silence.

"Jack was in the second team of Operation Checkmate. He was captured and tortured because our part was botched from the start!"

Sam shut her eyes. His words echoed through her head just as they echoed around the empty factory.

"He never said," she muttered quietly.

"There's a lot of things he's never told you… Like I said, you really know how to pick 'em!"

She didn't even want to begin to think about what he meant by that. With all the revelations the day had already kicked up, finding out intimate details about Jack's not so pleasant past didn't feature high of he list of things to know at the moment.

"You said this was all revenge on our behalf as well as your own? How'd you figure that out?" she asked coldly.

"Because of what happened to you both! Sam! You were unconscious for three weeks because of that mission, and Jack had to fight for his life for nearly two weeks in the desert before being picked up by the enemy and tortured for another month! You don't think that deserves some sort of payment from the COs responsible?!"

"Not like this!" she shouted back. "Simon, how can nearly killing him and making me do your dirty work be helping either of us?! If you want to go after Gibson and Frakes, do it on your own time, not ours!"

"I couldn't do it on my own, though. Not since they went into hiding. I needed you to find them for me. And the only way to do that was to jeopardise the one thing you held dearest. The fact that that was Jack was just luck of the draw."

Luck of the draw?! Sam took an involuntary step back at his words, disgusted at how nonchalant her old friend was at playing dice with Jack's life and her own.

Simon could see the horror in her face. He knew she would react like this. But then, that's what you got with a strong sense of justice and too many years on the wrong side of the picket fence. But he wasn't finished with her just yet.

"You alright?" he asked with apparent sincerity.

Sam didn't reply. She shook her head, eyes glistening with tears.

"Oh well," he said, back to his tormenting tone. "Too bad. I kinda hoped you'd come around to my thinking, but it doesn't matter either way."

Sam's eyes suddenly shifted into his. She knew what he meant.

"No way!" she said flatly. "There is no way I'm helping you now!"

"Oh, but you were willing to kill Gibson when you had no idea as to what was going on?" he spat. "Face it, Sam, my dear. Our boy Jack's gonna be in just as much trouble until all this is over. Or he'll be dead if you walk away now."

Behind them both, Sam noticed the CCTV image of Jack's hospital room. Two nurses were changing his IV line and checking on the heart monitors. Her heart sank when she realised what she had to do.

Without taking her eyes of Simon, she moved around him to the computer screen.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she muttered as she keyed in the command.

On the screen, she saw the nurses' cool demeanour quickly turn to panic as the crash team invaded the small room. The sound of the heart monitor flat lining flooded through the factory office. Simon soon shoved her out of the way.

"What're you doing?!" he screamed at her, furiously hitting keys on the keyboard.

Without thinking, Sam hauled him away from the computer.

"I'm not gonna let you hold him over me like that!" she yelled. "I'm not helping you!"

Her eyes were hard and cold and a wash with tears as the crash team desperately attempted to resuscitate Jack.

Simon's face changed dramatically and quickly. In a split second, it went from shock to rage. She had just eliminated his last bargaining chip over her. There was no way he could get at Frakes. This fact made Sam smile wanly. A small consolation for Jack.

In utter rage, Simon lashed out at her, hitting her squarely across the jaw. She went stumbling to the floor, unable to keep her balance from the blow.

As she struggled to bring herself back up; caught in a tangle of grief and anger, she could hear him moving around the room.

Finally, she stood ready to fight him. Instead, she froze instantly once she had wheeled around to face him. She was face to face with the barrel of his gun.

Alarmed, she took a step backwards and soon collided with the wall. A jagged piece of shattered door frame and masonry dug uncomfortably into her left hip. But it was the least of her worries.

As she had stepped back, Simon had advanced and was now holding the gun squarely to the middle of her forehead.

"That was a very stupid thing to do, my dear," he sneered. All resemblance the man she once knew was now gone.

Aware of the inevitable, and with panic rising through her veins, Sam screwed her eyes tight shut. Waiting. Bracing herself.

As soon as her lids closed, there was a shot.

* * *

Author's Note: Right. One chapter left. Hope you can all hang on for it! In the mean time you can always review! Thanx. 


	9. Checkmate!

**STARGATE SG-1: Operation Checkmate**

Summary: When General O'Neill is incapacitated, Carter finds herself in over her head as a helpless puppet to a mad man…

Season: 8

Pairing: Jack/Sam (suggested)

Spoilers: New Order, Lockdown

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Stargate SG-1. Please don't sue me!

Author's Note: Everything that has a beginning has an ending, and all that. So here it is folks! The last chapter. Hope I haven't caused too many sleepless nights (or heart attacks!) with this one. And hope y'all like the ending. Please R&R as always. Thanx. Enjoy!

WARNING: Strong Language!

Operation Checkmate: Chapter 9 – Checkmate

"Each game of Chess means there's one less variation left to be played."

– From 'Chess, The Musical'

* * *

Sam waited for the kick of adrenaline to subside as pain seeped into her perception. She felt her lungs restricting as she sank to the floor. Opening her eyes as much as her dwindling strength would allow her, she saw Simon's dead body slumped before her, his gun lay harmless by his side. 

As her eyes began to cloud, she was just about able to distinguish a figure moving about the room.

"General," she said quietly. "You need to help him."

Her world began to swim as she was lifted off the ground and carried outside. As the mid-morning sunlight hit her face, she gave up consciousness and escaped the pain at last.

* * *

The next day… 

To his immense relief, her eyes fluttered open at last. She gazed around the room, trying to find something familiar to focus on. Soon, she lited on him.

"Barrett?" she said hoarsely, still groggy from pain killers and sleep.

"Hey, Carter. You OK?" Barrett said with a smile.

Sam echoed his smile and nodded her head gently.

"Simon?" she queried.

Barrett hesitated. "He'd dead."

He watched her reaction carefully. Initially, she looked relieved then past experience took hold.

"You know," she said; a hint of bitterness in her voice. "You're the second person who's told me that."

Barrett smiled thinly. "I'm not lying to you, though."

Sam closed her eyes – out of relief, out of exhaustion, Barrett wasn't sure – and sighed. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

"I tapped into your e-mail," he said, slightly guilty for invading her privacy. "When I realised you were meeting Simon, I went along. Got there just before you did. I saw everything, Sam."

Sam looked away. Everything? Including her attempt to kill Jack herself?

"When pulled the gun on you, I managed to take him down before he did anything."

Sam looked confused for a moment. "Then how did I –"

"His finger was on the trigger. As he went down, he got one shot off. Hit you in the chest. You were lucky, actually. Any further left it would have hit your heart."

She nodded gravely.

"What about the General?" she asked, once more avoiding his eyes.

"I deactivated the Particles," he said. "He should be waking up some time soon."

Sam nodded. "Can I see him?"

Barrett shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Sam tried to sit up in her bed and winced at the sharp pain the effort sent to her chest. But she was determined. She had to be there when he woke up. It was the only way she was going to know that he was really alright.

"Sam," Barrett said cautiously as he watched her sit up. "I have to file a report about this."

Sam froze where she was – half way between sat up and lying down.

She nodded. "You gonna bring me up on charges?… Not to mention the murder and conspiracy charges the civilian authorities could pull me up on." She slumped back down, letting her head drop heavily onto the pillow. It was all hitting home, the amount of trouble she had managed to get herself into just by picking up the phone.

"Don't worry about any of it," Barrett said reassuringly. "I've got it all figured. We just say Simon threatened you into stealing the files. Then, after killing Gibson, he kidnapped you to keep you quiet and tried to kill you."

"You're gonna lie to your superiors?" Sam said in surprise. "What about the rest of it?"

"What rest of it?"

"The nano-particles? His vendetta because of the Gulf Op? Mine and the General's involvement in Checkmate? The –"

"Like I said," Barrett interrupted. "What rest of it?" He fixed her with a hard stare.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. It was bad enough having to live with what had gone on. But lying to everyone else too? It didn't sit right with her at all. But it was the best thing to do. She knew that.

"The report's going through in the morning. I can let you see it if you like?" he added.

"No," Sam replied quickly. She didn't want to hear anything about it ever again.

* * *

About half an hour later, the nurses deemed her fit enough to be wheeled around in a wheelchair, rather than confined to her bed. As soon as she was set, Sam made a beeline for the General's room. 

He was still out of it, but the colour in his face was much stronger than it had been the day before. As was his breathing, Sam noted as she watched his chest gently rise and fall.

She pulled right up to the side of his bed, barely acknowledging the fact that Barrett and the nurses had left the room. It was just her and the General now.

Sam sighed. Partly from relief. Partly from guilt. She felt responsible for his state. That, and the fact that she had been so quick to let him die back in the factory weighed heavy on her mind.

Gently, she cradled his hand in hers, weaving her fingers into his. To her surprise, he responded.

Just a twitch at first. His little finger and thumb gripping slightly to her hand. Then it was more pronounced.

Instantly, Sam's gaze flicked to his face as his eyes blinked open.

"Sir?" she said in excitement and relief.

Jack slowly turned his head towards her and smiled. His smile faded slightly on seeing her in a wheel chair.

"I miss something?" he asked plainly.

Sam swallowed dry, hoping he didn't pick up on her awkward reaction to his question.

"Oh, nothing much. Barrett'll explain when you're up and around," she said, her voice wavering only a fraction. But he picked up on it all the same.

"Sam?" he said, his eyes looking deeply into hers. "Are you OK?"

Sam smiled – albeit weakly from his use of her first name. "I'm fine… It's just been a long couple of weeks."

Jack held her gaze a while longer. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something. Something big. Something that would effect more than just peace of mind. But he couldn't place what it was.

Finally, Sam broke away, letting go of his hand as well.

"I should get the nurses," she said hurriedly.

She pushed herself towards the door. As her hand closed over the door, his voice called her back.

"Carter," he said. "…Sorry if I gave you a scare back there."

Sam smiled. "It's OK, sir. I'm just glad you're back now."

With that, she left to find the nurse, her chest aching from more than just Simon's bullet wound. She couldn't bring herself to tell him anything. And that included not being able to share his pain for that disaster of a mission in Iraq all those years ago.

* * *

One week later… 

Jack had been let out of hospital at last! It had taken him five days of grumbling and complaining to finally gain his freedom. Usually, they gave up after two, but not this time.

He pulled up in his drive way, surprised at just how relieved he was to be home again. As he walked up the path and unlocked his front door, he couldn't help but whistle the Simpson's theme tune. After all, he had nearly three weeks worth of viewing to catch up on. Luckily, Siler had taped them all for him.

In his kitchen, he quickly found his way to the beer (despite the doctors' insistence that he lay off the alcohol for a while). He was fine, for crying out loud! What did they know anyway?!

Taking a swig, he hit the play button on his answer machine and settled on the sofa.

"You have no new messages," the machine informed him.

Typical! You're not around for three weeks and no-one calls to find out why!

'Oh well, more time for TV, I suppose,' he thought, picking up the remote.

Before he could hit the power button, his phone rang. With a sigh, Jack picked up the cordless phone on the coffee table.

"O'Neill?" he said, masking his irritation well.

"Hey there, Jack. How's it going?!" came a familiar voice on the other end.

Jack froze where he sat. It couldn't have been! Barrett had killed him! That's what the NID report said. One bullet right between the shoulders.

"Surprised?" the man said.

"A little," Jack replied. "You know, for an old friend, you sure as hell know how to scare the living shit out of me second in command."

Simon laughed at the comment.

"Didn't I warn you _against_ a stunt like that?!" Jack spat.

"Yeah," Simon said lazily. "You did. Couldn't resist it. Man! You should have seen her face! Quite a picture, I can tell you."

Jack snapped. "Listen! You arrogant little worm! –"

"Hey! Time and place, mate. This is neither!" Simon cut him short.

"Really? Beg to differ. _Mate_… How the hell did Barrett not kill your sorry little ass?!"

Simon sighed in a mocking tone.

"My, my, Jack. Have you not learned anything? I have a tendency of keeping ahead of the game. Really, you should play me at Chess sometime… Would you honestly threaten _Samantha_ and then go into a meeting with her without some sort of back up plan?"

Jack mulled over what he was saying, all the time trying to think of various ways of decapitating his opponent.

"I figured she'd try and pull something to take me down. So, naturally, a bullet proof vest came in very handy. You can tell Agent Barrett it was a nice shot, though. Would have got me otherwise."

Jack shut his eyes. He couldn't believe this was all kicking off again. He was sure Carnall had been warned off six months ago when he called with his crazy ideas of going after Gibson and Frakes. Jack had been horrified at the idea, and even more so when he brought Sam into the equation. It was bad enough finding out she had been involved in that God awful operation. But he wanted to drag her into this?! It was sick!

'You won't help me?' Simon had said. 'Maybe she will.'

'You but breathe too close to her and I swear I'll kill you!' Jack promised.

He was wishing he'd done it anyway, now.

"You bastard!" Jack said on a breath.

Simon laughed. God! He hated that sound.

"I told you I'd get her to help me!" he said between laughs. "After all, I had the perfect bargaining chip. How is the old ticker, by the way?"

"That was _you_?!" jack fumed.

"Come on? You think you're in bad enough shape to drop like that?! You're one of the fittest men in Colorado Springs, for fuck sake!"

"What did you do to her?!" Jack's voice almost cracked as he thought of what Sam could have gone through because of this asshole.

"Nothing much," Simon replied, smooth as silk. "She knows, though." He said it quietly.

Jack's heart sank. Now he knew what had bugged him back at the hospital, just after he woke up. Her behaviour. She was breaking under the weight of knowledge that he'd been carrying alone for so long.

"Hey, Jack?" Simon said through the brief silence. "I got a job for you."

"No way! Fuck you. I'm not gonna kill for you!"

"Sam did."

Jack's heart all but jumped into his throat.

"Well, technically, she killed for _you_. Probably holds good to return the favour, don't you think?"

"FUCK YOU!" He tried hard to block out his voice. It wasn't true, he told himself. She'd never lower herself to that. Not even for him.

"You not read the papers? Or that cock and bullshit story of an NID report? Gibson's dead, Jack. You think I'd be dumb enough to pull the trigger myself after everything?"

"She wouldn't," Jack said quietly. "She couldn't!"

"Could and did, I'm afraid. She's entered the dark side, my friend –"

"I'm not your _friend_, asshole!" Jack snapped.

"Whatever… Doesn't change things, though." He paused, making sure every word he was about to utter would ring perfectly clear in Jack's ears.

"See, I've learned a few lessons these last three weeks. One being how far she's willing to go for you. And vice versa, I'd wager. The second that being dead to people has its uses."

Jack gritted his teeth hard.

"So, here's the thing. Gibson's gone. Frakes is not. Sam's done her bit for you. You can do a bit for her… Turn on the TV."

Jack's eyebrows furrowed at the command, but he complied. He hit the power button on the remote.

The screen sprang into life. Jack nearly fell off his sofa what an image of Sam's living room filled the screen before him. She was sat in her favourite armchair reading some Physics book. On the table was a half drunk mug of coffee and an open packet of Oreos.

"Looks peaceful, doesn't she?" Simon said, tormenting Jack further. "Want to save her life?"

"Excuse me?" Jack questioned, confused at Simon's odd leap in logic.

"I asked if you wanted to save her life. You see, she thinks I'm dead. Again. Her guards completely down. That means no gun stashed under her pillow. No thousand-locks-on-the-door. No Barrett. It would be all too easy for me to waltz in there, scare the living shit out of her and then blow her brains out… or worse…"

He trailed off to let Jack fill in what the 'worse' would be.

"Now, is my little wager of how far you'd go for her gonna pay off, or is Sam's house gonna be redecorated a delicate shade of red sometime soon?"

Jack's eyes were glued to the TV screen as Sam obliviously reached for her coffee, her attention still on her book. She looked so beautiful. So at ease. Something he didn't often see in her with their line of work.

"Simple conundrum, Jack. Her or Frakes," Simon nudged further.

"If it were simple, it wouldn't be a conundrum, would it?" Jack said through gritted teeth.

Simon laughed, making Jack's skin crawl. He hated being helpless. He hated that Simon was getting a kick out of it as well.

"Going once…" Simon announced with glee. "Going twice…"

Jack screwed his eyes shut.

"Alright," he said, defeated. "What do I do?"

* * *

Author's Note: That's all folks! Now, I will say this only once… THERE IS NO WAY ANYONE CAN PERSUADE ME TO DO MORE!!! I'll let you all fill in the blanks for how that ends. Thanx for all reading it and for all the reviews you've given me. Don't forget to review this one and I'll get back to the other series I've got on the go! Have a nice day now! 


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